


Mea Culpa

by VisceralComa



Series: Imperfect Sins [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Asunder - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courting Rituals, Dorks in Love, Drama & Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Modern Character in Thedas, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Portal Fantasy, Romantic Gestures, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, Tranquil Mages, Tranquil Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2020-07-28 09:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 72,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20061814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisceralComa/pseuds/VisceralComa
Summary: The first time Paloma felt like she might make a difference, was purely an accident. In all her years on Thedas, it took accidentally steeping the wrong flowers into a tea for her to feel like her life here had meaning or worth, or that she remotely had any power to change anything of what she knew to come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Grand Enchanter began negotiations with Magister Alexius, it resulted in the Arl and their servants being run out of the castle. Leaving the running of the castle to the apprentices, tranquil, and Tevinter slaves. Apprentice Paloma and Tranquil Clemence happen to be tasked with running the kitchens when Paloma has to cover for an ornery mage in delivering breakfast to one Tevinter mage suffering blight sickness.

The servants of Redcliffe castle refused to serve the Tevinter Magisters that invaded under the guise of “talking” with the rebel mages, and the servants were temporarily dismissed as quickly as Arl Teagan and Arlessa Kaitlyn had been kicked out.

Grand Enchanter Fiona was too quick to offer the tranquil and mage apprentices in their place for the remainder of the Tevinters’ stay. Anything to appease their would be allies. 

But very few mages had experience on such domestic tasks, as the Circle made them reliant on tranquil and the Templars. Those that did were few and far between. A fact they learned when the mages retreated to Andoral’s Reach when they had to take up the task of domestic duties. There were few who had the forethought to grab recipe books from the archives, a few who remembered their youth in their family homes, and those who had lived as apostates. There were the tranquil that came with them, but hunting was a necessity in order to supply meat. Few had any martial skill or skill in wielding any weapon besides staff…that’s where they had to rely on each other.

Now mage apprentices and tranquil tended to Redcliffe castle's daily servant tasks.

Paloma was assigned to kitchen duties. As an apprentice a few years off from her Harrowing when the rebellion began, she had little practical purpose beyond preparing herbs and rote memorization but had far more use in the kitchen than others.

“You are awake early.” Clemence greeted as he walked into the kitchens. Clemence had been her alchemy mentor in the circle. The Tranquil were often used to guide the young apprentices on subjects and fields requiring little to no magical application.

Wafts of freshly baked bread and a morning stew so the Tevinter guests could break their fast spilled out into the main hall.

“More like I haven’t slept.” Paloma sighed as she kneaded the last batch of dough. She huffed a stray lock of hair from her face, not wanting to stop what she was doing to tuck it back. It persisted to hang in her face. 

Clemence came around to her side, expression muted and neutral as ever. He reached and tucked the lock back. His fingers lingered over the curve of her ears, tracing the scarred flesh where he once remembered they were pointed.

“Thanks.” Paloma smiled brightly at him. His face showed nothing, no response, but Paloma didn’t need a physical reaction to know the nod was his form of acknowledgement.

“What kept you from your slumber?” Clemence asked. “Was it the new tincture draft?”

“You read my mind.” Paloma aggrieved as she formed the dough ball neatly before quartering it and tucking them until they were smooth balls. She set them into their own bowls for rest with a towel over them. “I think my dried arias are losing their efficacy. The tainted mice didn’t respond as well as the last batch. Plus I need to collect more Andraste’s Grace, but with the kitchen duties…” Paloma tossed the dough on the counter roughly.

“And the increasing level of mage and templar skirmishes.” Clemence added. 

“Yeah. It's a little difficult to head to the Kocari wilds. Not even mentioning the darkspawn." She sighed. "You'd think they all would have fled back underground with the Breach.” Paloma wiped her brow with her forearm. The stray lock coming loose again. 

“It would be negligible to allow you to venture that far south with the increase in raids.” Clemence taste-tested the stew and added a pinch of salt and a few more herbs and spices. He stirred once and tasted a sip. 

“Hey, that’s going to be a bit too strong.” Paloma came around to stop him.

“Tevinter cuisine preferences are heavily reliant on spiced sauces and stews.” Clemence informed.

“Really?” Paloma came to a pause beside him. “Can I try?”

“If you wish.” Clemence intended on grabbing a second spoon to allow her to taste, but she grabbed the one he had sipped from. He blinked in surprise. “Ah.” 

“Ooh.” She moaned. “That’s got some heat! A much better addition.” 

“Is it?” Clemence looked down at the vegetable stew. He was merely adding based upon memory of a recipe he had read.

“Yes! It’ll go perfectly with the rice.” She praised. 

Clemence was unused to receiving praise. The Templars cared only for when his potions and cooking was done. A tickle in the back of his mind had him wishing he could smile in return, even if he did not feel the same excitement. But alas, the Rite prevented that. 

The kitchen door opened with a disgruntled grunt from Linnea sounded. Milk buckets sloshed and barely remained upright as she slammed them down. “Next time, you’re collecting the ram milk.” Linnea hissed at Paloma.

“Hey, you drew the short stick.” Paloma tutted as she grabbed the buckets to fill the milk churns. One for the larder and one for butter. 

“I wasn’t joking.” Linnea growled as her hand lit with flame. “I’m not getting near that thing again.”

Paloma shared a disbelieving look with Clemence. 

“Perhaps I should inform our Tevinter guests of your unwillingness to cooperate as a cohesive kitchen unit?” Clemence didn’t blink, merely continued to stir the stew with his monotone voice even. It wasn’t a threat if you heard it in passing, but Paloma knew it to be a threat. There was no tone or inflection, but the words were clear enough to her. And thankfully to Linnea.

“Tell your Tranquil pet to be quiet.” Linnea barked and left the kitchen. 

“Hey! He’s not my pet! And you’re supposed to be bringing up the young master’s tea!” Paloma called out the door into the hall, yet Linnea turned a corner down the stairs. “Shoot.” She eyed the tray she had prepared for it. She still had another batch of dough to prepare. 

“I will deliver the tea.” Clemence stated. “You have much to do and you arrived before us.” 

“No you don’t. The last time you showed yourself in the great hall, they took great offense. I can’t imagine if you did in Magister Alexius’s presence or private quarters.” Paloma tutted and pushed Clemence back to the hearth. “Just begin preparing the servings. I’ll be quick.” 

“If you insist.” Clemence stepped to the iron stove where a cauldron had been sat filled with freshly cooked rice. He carried it closer to the hearth and besides a stack of wooden bowls. With a wooden spoon he quickly filled each bowl. Half with rice. Half with stew. It was packed and set on the serving carts. 

Paloma on the other hand was opening a jar with a dried tea powder concoction. She measured out - according to a tacked up piece of parchment - exactly three scoops into a parchment pouch and tied it off before adding it to a kettle. As it boiled, she sprinkled in lyrium dust and stirred. It took five minutes to prepare, then she let it simmer for ten before serving it into an enchanted teapot to keep it warm. She set it on a special tray, where Clemence also placed a bowl of rice and stew, freshly baked bread roll, a cluster of grapes, sugar cubes, and lemon slices. 

Paloma eyed the grapes and removed the withering and wilting ones, before nodding. Utensils and linen napkin set on, it was ready to deliver. 

“I’ll be back down.” Paloma pushed the door to the stairs open with her hip.

“I await your return.” Clemence watched her go. He stared at where she’d been kneading dough long after she had left. His mind on the problem of her arias. If the efficacy were waning, it would do well to jar them for preservation, much like they did the berries and fruits. 

“Clemence.” Lysas knocked as he entered the kitchen, beside him was another elven mage who was slight and young. “I bring you Banon, who has only just arrived in Redcliffe. He will be assisting you in the kitchens. Grand Enchanter Fiona requests he be given simple tasks for now until we can place him in the library.”

Banon stepped in after Lysas. Clemence took one look at him, his gaze drawn down to his hands. Soft skin, ink under his fingernails, and long healed paper cuts along his fingertips. 

Where was a mage still performing archival duties as to have ink under his nails? He squinted but nodded. 

“You can assist with the fruit preparation.” Clemence nodded and directed Banon to the precision knives. 

“Fruit preparation?” Banon asked with a frown. 

“The Tevinters prefer the fruits presented for breakfast in particular style.” He pointed to the image Paloma had drawn. A cornucopia of grapes, assorted imported bananas, mangos, and berries. 

“How queer, so much effort when you can just grab the fruit from a pile.” Banon huffed. 

“They are particular in their aesthetic appeal of their foods at banquets and in personal.” Lysas smirked. “Some would say they are worse than Orlesians.”

Banon shivered. “No one can beat the Orlesians in that respect.” 

“You will be surprised.” Clemence droned. 

“I leave you in his care, Clemence.” Lysas’s gaze flicked toward Banon’s hands with meaning. 

“Of course." Clemence nodded. "Be sure to wash your hands thoroughly, including under your fingernails before handling the fruits.” Clemence stared long at Banon. 

Banon looked down at his hands, his skin paling when he noticed their state.

“You don’t really expect me to take orders from a Tranquil?” Banon spoke up.

“I expect you to aid where you can in these trying times while the Grand Enchanter negotiates with the Tevinters on our behalf.” Lysas leveled him with a stern look, daring Banon to talk back. 

“Hmph.” Banon frowned before moving to the sink. 

“Besides, Clemence gives no orders.” Lysas smiled softly. 

Clemence pulled the other needed fruits from the larder. 

“Oh…” Banon looked between them. “Well good.” 

“I only remind of that which needs to be done. Be it by you, me, or the others.” Clemence expressed. “It matters little on who performs it, only that it is done.” 

Banon wiped his hands dry. “Right…” 

“Here are the fruits. Please prepare. The breaking fast banquet will begin soon.” Clemence set the fruits down and returned back to plating the rice and stew, with bread. 

They lulled into silence as they worked. Clemence noted Lysas’s continued presence. He was looking around the kitchen and then down the hall. 

“Is there anything else, Enchanter Lysas?” Clemence questioned. 

“Where is Linnea?” Lysas frowned. 

“Linnea left in a fit of rage after having had to milk the rams this morning.” 

Lysas looked down the hall. “And Paloma?” 

“She has gone to deliver the young master’s tea.”

Lysas frowned, his body rigid as he quickly paled. “Oh dear.” 

* * *

Paloma ascended the steps carefully, slowing when needed to prevent anything from falling or spilling. She reached the third floor of the castle and walked down the hallway. She didn’t know exactly which room, only that it was the one opposite the library in the royal wing. Paloma adjusted her grip on the tray as she passed a Tevinter slave standing guard. She wore little save for the spiked collar around her neck, some cloth underneath that led down to her chest in a criss-crossed fashion, a belt and long loincloth, leather gloves, and her shoes. Her sun darkened torso and thighs entirely on display. She stared ahead without a helmet to hide her face. 

“Um…” Paloma tried not to stare as she passed. They slaves were not allowed to speak to the mages, so she knew not to expect a verbal response. But that didn’t mean the slaves couldn’t move. “I need to find the library.” She squeezed out around a held breath.

The slave stared long at her. Paloma considered just opening each door, until the slave turned her head and stared at a door three down from where they were. 

“Th-thank you.” Paloma smiled and plucked a few grapes from the tray and held them out to the slave. As soon as the slave grabbed them, Paloma was quick to keep moving. Else the slave would end up in trouble by any who happened to pass by. 

She found the door and peeked inside to confirm it was the library. Lifting the tray again, she went to its opposite, feeling that slave’s gaze hard on her as she knocked. It was quiet, until she heard a faint invitation to come in. 

Paloma pushed the door open and walked into the dark stale room. The only light came from the hearth and a bedside candle. She didn’t dare look, instead wishing to drop the tray off at the table and retreat, but a cough had her looking toward the bed — toward Felix.

He was paler than she thought he would be. Grayer too.

He let out a wheezing cough as he caught her gaze with his incredulous one. “You-you're new.” 

“Oh- I…” Paloma wanted to apologize but the young man devolved into a coughing fit as he tried to climb out of the bed. He gripped a bedpost to steady himself.

Quickly she poured his tea, crossed the room, set it on his bedside table and gently guided him back into bed. “Please sit, drink your medicinal tea.”

“You shouldn’t come close.” He wheezed as she set the blankets over his lap. 

“Why?” Paloma already knew why that was. “Are you sick?”

He gave an amused huff. “Yes, very much so.” 

“Oh dear.” Paloma deadpanned, looking from his pallid complexion, reddened nose, and bloodshot eyes. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

Felix’s grin was wide as he laughed, which turned into coughs as he clutched his chest. 

“Drink your tea.” Paloma tutted as she helped raise the cup to his lips. His grimace told tale of how awful the taste was, but he drank it all. “Yes, I’m sure it’s quite bitter.” 

“But its taste is a marked improvement from the powders.” Felix sighed as he settled back on the bed. “I find I can’t quite stomach to swallow them without liquid.” He muttered. “The tea’s texture is much more preferable.”

“You should consider having the powders pressed into capsules.” Paloma suggested as she stepped back finally. “Are you wishing to break your fast in bed or the table?” 

“Bed please.” He spoke automatically but was caught on one word. 

Paloma grabbed the tray. Her fingers working quick to pull the legs out to prop it up on the bed. 

“Capsules?” Felix squinted. 

“Pardon?” 

“What are capsules?” Felix questioned again. 

“Oh.” Paloma froze. Had she mentioned something they didn’t have yet? “Ah… using the uh powders, if you press them tightly with binding agents, they’re much easier to swallow whole instead of ingesting powders.” 

“Huh.” Felix squinted. “I don’t believe my father has tried that yet.” 

“Well I certainly hope he may. Will that be all for this morning.” Paloma wanted to return to the kitchen quickly. 

“No. Uh…” Felix looked at her and then smiled. “I must say you are certainly a sight better than the last serving girl.”

“Linnea does take some getting used to.” 

“She was rather brusque.” Felix mused. Silence lapsed between them. 

Paloma looked toward the door. She had so many more duties and things to bake for supper and then evening meal. And she desperately wanted to discuss with Clemence alternative methods of prolonging the efficacy of her herbs. “If that is all?”

“I don’t believe I caught your name.” Felix asked at the same time.

“Pardon my manners, sir! I am Paloma Belpre.” Paloma gave an overly formal bow with a playful smirk. Felix chuckled at her antics.

“I am Felix Alexiu-” He introduced himself but stopped when he caught how knowing Paloma’s smile was. “And you already knew that.”

“Almost all the rebel mages are aware of who you are and…” She trailed off and winced. 

“Ah I take it my condition has been the subject of gossip?”

“Well...I don’t wish to get anyone in trouble, but...the walls do have quite a lot of ears.” Paloma didn’t want to get anyone in trouble just because she knew many facts of things that were, are, and have not yet come to pass.

“And they whisper quite readily.” Felix sighed and eyed the tray of food. “Thank you for the morning meal, and my tea.” 

“It was no trouble, sir.” She nodded, gave a quick bow and left. 

Paloma walked down the hall quickly only to see Lysas coming down the other way hurriedly. 

“Thank the Maker, there you are.” Lysas huffed as he jogged to her and checked her over. 

“What’s the issue? Is something wrong?” Paloma asked. 

“No…I…” He paused and looked at the female slave watching them. “I just need to make sure you return back to your kitchen duties.” 

“Oh. Of course.” Paloma eyed him. His shoulders tense and his skin paler than normal. They walked down the stairs and back toward the kitchens. “Care to explain?” She asked once they were within eyesight of the kitchen. 

“While the Grand Enchanter negotiates our potential alliance with Magister Alexius, she has urged that no apprentice, especially elven ones, be left alone with any Tevinter magister.” He spoke lowly. 

Paloma stilled. “I am not an elf.” She stated simply. “But I do see the danger in apprentices being alone with any magister.” 

Lysas bit his tongue, not wishing to correct her initial reaction. He was well away of her self-disfigurement. But it was neither the time or place to handle that. “Thank you. I will speak to Linnea on her abandonment of her duties. In the meantime I will have Keili assigned to the kitchens with you.” 

“Keili?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...don't know whats come over me for me to be able to produce such fluff and slice of life. I blame the state of the world and my personal life, and me absolutely needing just a little bit of lightness in my life currently. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy. 
> 
> My plan for this is to avoid as many major characters as I can. The most I see myself touching is brief mentions of Dorian, the Inquisitor, Iron Bull, Alistair, and Fiona. Otherwise get ready for NPC city!!!
> 
> So what do you guys think? What are your expectations off just this one chapter? What do you hope to see? 
> 
> Critiques welcomed and Spelling and grammar mistake corrections are ONLY welcome in a comment about the story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clemence suggests an arcane solution to Paloma's problem, to her amazement. Her reaction makes him recall many things: her arrival at the White Spire and most importantly how he used to reciprocate a hug before the rite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
**  
MINOR TRIGGER WARNINGS. BURN VICTIM INJURIES AND DEBRIDEMENT PROCESS

Paloma eyed the tranquil woman before her in the kitchen. Her expression as muted as Clemence’s, who cubed potatoes diligently and quickly, while Banon scrubbed turnips clean from a bowl. 

“What reason was there for you to be made tranquil?” Paloma asked as she always did with each new Tranquil she met. The circumstances were always different and let her know a little something about them. it also let her know what sort of things to discuss. Often the passions they had before the rite were the same fixations they had after. Only it was safer. Supposedly.

“I asked the Templars to make me tranquil.” Keili stated simply. 

Paloma’s jaw dropped. “Whatever for?” 

“Before the rite I was disturbed and frightened by the curse of magic upon me, that I would become an abomination.” Keili spoke with an even tone. “Now I have no fear of that. I can live peacefully and calmly.”

Paloma tried to see doubt in her at all but even as a tranquil she seemed sure that this was the best course of action for her. 

“Well. At least you made that choice.” Paloma tried to find the silver lining. “Of your own volition, even if under the influence of fear.”

“Yes. I was rather fortunate. After Kinloch Hold suffered at the hands of abominations and maleficar, I begged the Templars to make me tranquil so I could never become one of those things. They obliged.” Keili explained.

“Right…” Paloma nodded, uneasily. Banon and her shared an uneasy and perturbed look. “We need someone to collect the milk from the herd. Jimmy in the village will help you, though best not let him talk your ear off. He’s been out of sorts since his family ram went missing.” 

“Yes, enchanter.” Keili bowed her head. 

“Ah… just Paloma. I was never harrowed.” Paloma corrected. Banon's brows perked up, curious.

“Of course, Paloma.” Keili nodded. Paloma gestured to the side room. 

“You’ll also be in charge of churning the butter. Once you have the milk here, they need a full day and night to settle to get the most cream.” Paloma showed her the churn and where the milk could settle overnight in the larder. “It can take up to an hour to churn the cream into butter, more than enough time for when I start cooking for supper. So be sure the butter is stocked up for that. Tevinter and Orlesian cuisine are both extremely decadent in different ways.” 

“Now then, we have the evening meal to finish. Help Clemence and Banon with the vegetables, I have to check on the roast.” Paloma stepped out of the kitchen to head to the roasting pit, but stepped back in. “Wash your hands thoroughly first.” 

Despite Linnea quitting kitchen duties, Paloma, Clemence, and Banon were able to get it all sorted. The few Tevinter slaves that were assigned to assist the kitchen came and served the food into the banquet hall, while the rest of them took their meal in the garden. 

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you on your problem.” Clemence mentioned once he finished consuming his meal. He looked across at Paloma. She was a slow consumer, usually because of a book. This time it was her journal where she was jotting notes down. Her plate cold and forgotten. “Please finish your meal.”

Paloma, still with a spoon in her mouth from the last time she’d taken a bite, looked across at him questioning before she noticed. She swallowed and grabbed another spoonful. “I’m eating. I’m eating!” She muttered indignant. 

“It appears you have written more words than you have chewed.” Clemence stated. 

“You gave me this you know. I’m making use of it heavily.” She stuck her tongue out.

“I am aware. However with you skipping sleep, you must at least eat. It would be unwise for you to succumb to sleep exhaustion and malnutrition in the presence of our guests.” Clemence furrowed his brow at the condition of the book. She’d written in it everyday, from edge to edge with some pages dog eared. 

“True. Alright.” She closed the book, hand fondly caressing the cover before she committed to eating. 

Clemence noted her care. He’d given her that book to write in when the mages had reached Andoral’s Reach. They’d had little time to grab what they could from the tower. Some mages grabbed staves. Others potions and herbal ingredients. But the tranquil that accompanied them, the ones who had been in charge of running the day to day mundane activities in the tower such as cooking and cleaning; they grabbed the essentials. Pots, spices, nails, glowstones, tents, blankets, and makeshift bedrolls. Paloma had been as practical as the tranquil in her contributions. But when all was settled, she mourned the loss of her journal and research. She felt useless. So he scoured the books the mages had brought and found an empty unused one for her to write down what she recalled until they could retrieve the books. 

Sadly, they never got a chance to retrieve it and so they were lost. But his timely procurement of the journal allowed for her to record everything she recalled that when they finally settled and she had time to begin again, she was only a few months behind in her research on the Blight. Now, she was caught up to where they had been. 

He watched her eat, waiting until she wiped her mouth clean and drank her tea before beginning again. 

“Have you considered preservation via jarring?” Clemence began.

“What?” Paloma blinked. “Jarring like...with jam?”

“Yes. As you said, exposure to the air decreases the shelf life of organic materials. Should we not limit exposure as much as possible?” Clemence suggested evenly. 

“But how would we remove the air from the jar?” Paloma squinted. “Simply putting it in hot water won’t get rid of it all…” She tilted her head back, eyes closed in thought. 

“It is remarkable how you initially think of mundane methods before the arcane.” Clemence blinked. Ever since she first arrived at the White Spire covered in burns and assigned to his alchemy lessons, she has always considered the mundane before any magical solution. It is what made it difficult for her in her other lessons. Yet also calmed the Templars away from making her tranquil, such as himself.

* * *

**9:37 DRAGON**

Clemence looked up as the Templars barged through the entrance of the White Spire. He was in the midst of having the youngest apprentices recite from memory the alchemical elements, their properties, classifications, and states of matter.

The Templars half carried a limping figure. Steam and smoke wafted off them and the scent of burnt human flesh was undeniable. They stumbled and whimpered as they stumbled barefooted. The makeshift hood over their head came loose and fell back. He caught the flash of pointed ears and a mostly burnt head of silver hair and sun dark skin. 

“You, Tranquil! Healing salves! Poultices! At once. And retrieve the Vigilant and the Commander!” Knight-Lieutenant Evangeline barked. “And grab Enchanter Regalyan while you’re at it!” They didn’t further explain why, simply carried the person off in the direction of the healing chambers.

Clemence turned to his pupils and informed them to read from their tomes until he returned and went off to do as the Templars requested. 

He was quick to inform the Knight Commander, Vigilant, and Regalyan, and circled back around to grab the salves and poultices needed. The Knight-Commander Eron and Knight Vigilant Trentwatch were present when he came in. Regalyan’s hands became aglow with healing magics and his brows furrowed. 

“We found her on the outskirts. A merchant reported seeing a mage alight in fire. When we arrived, the area around her was ash and alight with lightning. It took three archers to get a dosing of magebane to stop her.” Knight-Lieutenant Evangeline reported. 

Trentwatch and Eron shared an unsettled look. 

“What is her condition?” Knight Vigilant Trentwatch asked once Regalyan pulled his hands back and began removing the cloak around the woman but stopped upon seeing how little she wore. 

“She’s sustained severe surface burns over her arms, back, and legs. She’ll have to be covered in poultices for quite some time. Easily healed with no scarri-” 

“I meant her magic, Enchanter. Is she a threat? Should I call Enchanter Rhys down to see about spirits?” Trentwatch corrected.

“No, I sense no spirits.” Regalyan muttered, unsurprised by their immediate concern.

“Anything else?”

“Her magical potential is like nothing I have ever seen.” Regalyan muttered being very careful in his word selection. “Currently she is depleted and suffering extreme mana exhaustion, she’ll not be casting anytime soon.” 

“Good.” Trentwatch nodded. “See that her burns are treated and alert me to any changes.” He turned and left the room. “Eron, I’d like a word.”

“Knight Lieutenant Brossard, you are to remain at her side.” Eron looked at the elven mage. “If there are signs of possession...do not hesitate to do your duty.”

“Ser.” Evangeline saluted and returned to her post by the bed as they left.

“Clemence, prepare two basins of water, ad we’ll need as many clean clothes as possible. In order to apply those healing salves, we’ll need to scrap the burnt flesh off.” Regalyan looked up at the Templar. Clemence stepped into the water closet to draw the water while listening in.

“I shall wait beside the door while you tend to her.” The Knight Lieutenant took a step away, her voice perturbed by the thought of what was to be done.

“Actually,” Regalyan halted her. “I would prefer a woman be present. What we’re about to do is not pleasant for anyone. We are strangers to her. It may calm her to know another woman is present.”

“Why can you not put her to sleep. I can retrieve a sleeping draught from the stores.”

“I can only provide a mild sedative, but I need her conscious.” Regalyan continued, his voice heavy with worry. “I know nothing about her, whether she may be asthmatic or has any other underlying conditions. She could stop breathing while I am healing.” Regalyan explained. “The mild sedative will dull some of the pain, but she will be conscious and aware.”

“Maker have mercy on her.” Evangeline gasped. 

"That he may..." Regalyan frowned. “If you wouldn’t mind assisting?”

“Of course.” 

Clemence placed the basin down beside the table. “I’ll need you both to hold her down.” He pulled from his belt a small corked bottle and went to her, puckering her lips until they opened. “This will dull the pain.” She tried to jerk away but he managed to get her to drink and covered her mouth until she swallowed. 

“No…no! Please…don’t hurt me. I didn’t… I’m-I’m…not...” she whimpered. The potion was fast acting and her words slurred into near incomprehensible troubled mumbles. 

“Alright, It brings me no joy to do this.” Regalyan sighed as he removed the cloak, revealing the extent of the damage. With magic, Regalyan began the arduous process of using the water to soften and cut away the crusted skin and removing layer after layer until blood was seen.

Clemence pressed down when she jolted aware. A scream gurgling up at any point Regalyan removed the crusted black skin that was nearest too her less damaged skin or near the blisters. Her body went through stages of twitching and shivering. Her forehead became clammy with sweat. 

Regalyan began where the l burnt sections were, moving out to the blisters and used a cooling magical hand to soothe as much as he could. But it was as he moved down her hands to her fingers that it became difficult. Her fingers would not stop twitching, making it more painful than it needed to be. 

“Maker forgive me.” Regalyan swore and he looked up at Evangeline for permission. “I need to immobilize her.” 

After a moment, Evangeline nodded. “Do so.” 

The spell took effect as quickly as she gave permission. Regalyan could remove the rest of the damaged skin until it was clear, blood trickling lightly but not gushing. He grabbed a cloth, wet it and began cleaning the blood off as the spell wore off. The woman gave an agonized cry, body shaking as tears sprung up. Her mumbles grew frantic and pleading. 

“It’s alright.” Evangeline tried to assure her. 

“I’m not…I’m not.” She mumbled.

“What are you not?” Clemence finally spoke, questioning her. The woman’s head turned toward him, gasping when Regalyan began applying poultices and salves. 

“I’m not…I’m not an elf,” she rasped as her wide hazel gold eyes rolled back. 

All three of them froze, their gazes drawn to her head where two large elven ears twitched and sagged. 

* * *

#### Present Day

“Clemence! You’re a genius!” Paloma eyed the jars as she withdrew her hands. The magical glyph of suffocation he drew as an example on paper whilst teaching her the incantation removed all air from the jars before they placed the lids on. Effectively sealing them and preserving their contents. She turned to him, throwing her arms around him. Clemence slowly reached around to reciprocate the gesture with a pat.

There was a time before the Rite, where he would have pressed his face close. He recalled the gesture, the flush it caused, the pleasant waft of sweat, musk, and his partner’s unique scent. He remembered being pleased when it happened. Remembered how his partner was appreciative.

Clemence pressed his face into Paloma’s neck. The scent of onions were first, then her sweat, and finally a faint waft of her soap. He could detect the herbs she used to get that scent. Embrium and lavender for their calming qualities.

“Cl-cle...clemence??” Paloma’s stammer and rising heat under her skin alerted him to her embarrassment. 

He pulled back to see the reddening flush across her nose and cheeks, her bottom lip bitten, and unsure gaze. Seeing all of those reactions were akin to solving a puzzle, of a correctly realized theory in his alchemical studies, to a potion successfully created. It filled him with a satisfaction he wished to produce again. 

Then her confusion became evident as she stepped back. Her shoulders hunched tight. 

“Ah.” He should explain himself. “I recall that was my most frequent response to a hug that was given. Was that not the correct response?” 

When the pinkness disappeared, it disturbed him. But he left it alone for now. 

“Oh. Oh…no it was right, but uhh…usually it’s just returning the hug. Not…” Here the red returned to her cheeks as she rubbed her neck where he had pressed against. She coughed and looked away. “Anyway…it's… late. We should leave now, else we’ll both only end up with a few hours of sleep.” 

“Of course.”

They were quiet the entire way to the servants quarters.

“Sleep well.” Paloma wished him as they parted ways. He into the men’s sleeping quarters and her to the women’s. 

She removed her over robes and hung them on the chair besides her bed and began her nighttime routine of washing where important, cleaning her teeth and running a washed thread between her teeth. She was careful to not make much noise to awaken Keili, Helisma, or Linnea. Yet even once in bed, she found she couldn’t quiet her mind. 

The success of preserving her small yet expensive store of Felicidus Arias was concluded and the only worry she had left for her research was of her dwindling store of Andraste’s Grace. But even that wasn’t what kept her awake. It was Clemence. 

“What was that?” She sighed and turned to face the wall. In the dark she could imagine his face next to her like so many nights before when the rebel mages made their way to Andoral’s Reach. They slept near each other for warmth and because they didn’t have more bedrolls. Many mages had to double up, not that many were complaining. 

So there, in the darkness of the sleeping chambers, she could envision him again beside her. Even in the dark the brand had always been obvious. The brand, which reminded her removed all his emotions and desires. “It was nothing.” She told herself. 

“Just a remnant memory of what he thinks is appropriate.” She nodded, convincing herself. 

A pillow was thrown at her from Linnea’s bed. “Be quiet!” 

“Sorry!” Paloma grinned, but she had a feeling she would not be getting much sleep again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma is sleep deprived having spent the night pondering Clemence's returned gestured when the aforementioned Tranquil goes out of his way to make a much needed beverage. After his delivered breakfast, Felix gains approval from his father to roam Redcliffe after being stuck in the castle since their arrival.

“You appear to be sleep deprived.” Clemence stated once Paloma entered the kitchen. It was later than her usual time. She was sluggish and stared at him trying to comprehend what he said. 

“I didn’t sleep much.” She admitted around a yawn. “I’ll need the demon’s juice today.” 

“The demon’s juice?” Banon piped up from his spot at the stove. He was cooking crepes as instructed by Clemence. Keili had already come and gone and was back at the herd collecting the milk to settle overnight. 

“Coffee.” Paloma rummaged around the cabinet to grab the secret box of coffee beans. She’d have to roast them and then grind them and let it steep. A process that was much too long for her patience. “Why didn’t I roast and grind these before???” She placed her head against the counter with a whine. 

Clemence came up beside her and placed a mug down. She looked up as he poured cream and plopped two spoons of honey into the cup before stirring. 

“Eh?” Paloma stared wide eyed at it, enticed by the scent. “You...made me coffee.” She crawled her fingers to it, grasping it like it was the last salvation for her sanity.

“When you were not already present when I arrived, I feared you may have overslept.” Clemence stated simply before continuing to prepare the morning meal. 

Paloma groaned as she pulled the mug close. “Oh sweet maker, Clemence, this is the best damn cup of coffee I have ever had.” 

“You haven’t even drank it.” Banon scoffed. 

“You don’t just drink coffee, you heathen.” Paloma sniffed. “You absorb everything it offers.” She brought the mug up. “You inhale its aromatics.” She took a sip, the frothing cream giving her a milk mustache that she licked off. “Feel it’s texture.” She wrapped her hands around the mug more securely. “And temperature. And then, and only then...” She drank a hefty gulp and sighed. “You drink it.”

“You’re describing it as though it’s a good book.” Banon was incredulous. “Or wine…” 

“Pfft, neither of those two things can compare to coffee.” Paloma lifted her nose and took another drink. “Maker it’s so good.” 

Banon looked offended at her dismissal of books. Yet when she closed her eyes in pleasure, he looked intrigued. 

“Bless the Antivans for trading with whoever grows the mighty bean.” Paloma sighed. 

“Drink quickly as you have to deliver the Magister’s son’s tea.” Clemence interjected.

“Gaaaaah.” Paloma whined and squinted. “Did Linnea skip out again? She wasn’t in her cot when I woke up. Where is she?” She shook her head and began preparing Felix’s tray. Porridge for breakfast with some apples and grapes and his ever so bitter tea concoction his father insisted on. What was even in that tea? 

While it brewed, she opened the container and dipped one finger in and brought it to her lips. 

“Maker!” She gasped. “Is that?” She took another taste. “Clemence. Come here.” 

Clemence sighed as he pulled the next batch of bread from the hearth’s side and set it to cool. He walked over. Paloma stuck a finger covered in the tea fixings out to him. 

“Taste this.” 

He stilled her hand by grasping her wrist and wrapped his mouth around her finger to taste it. Brows furrowed, he tilted his head. “Powdered Felicidus Aria, ground deep mushroom, and...” he replied, but caught sight of Paloma’s flushed cheeks. He wasn’t sure what caused it this time. Was she ill? It would not surprise him given her sleep deprivation. Nay, it would explain her sleepless night. 

“Ah...um… wha-what else?” Paloma stammered and looked away. 

“Perhaps witherstalk?” He frowned. 

“I was thinking more like ghoul’s beard with a lemon zest.” She suggested. 

“Ah… yes.” He nodded, watching the blush disappear. So not ill. He eyed her finger. On a hunch, he grabbed her wrist again to lick the remnant tea. Once again her cheeks heated. 

“It-it’s...its really bitter…right?” She breathed and closed the tin with a loud clap. “Ah let me finish this so we can prepare for midday meal once the slaves serve breakfast.” She turned away from him in a hurry. 

Curious. He returned to his duties. 

“Ah...shoot!” Paloma swore while holding the tray. 

“What is it?” Banon was the one to ask. 

“Ahh Lysas said...grr.” She sighed. “Damnit Linnea.” She looked back in the kitchen at Banon. She would instruct Banon to do so if there weren't any suspicions regarding him. The ink splotches on his robes were not nearly as faded as theirs were and left all sorts of questions as to what purpose was he here.

“What troubles you?” Clemence asked. 

Paloma eyed him. If she sent Clemence in her stead, he may get in trouble if he showed himself in front of any of the Tevinters. All the tranquil have to stay hidden from the Tevinters. Magister Alexius did not like to be reminded of what mages could become after all. So out of sight, out of mind. Additional and most importantly, there was the danger of them disappearing into that hut in the village. 

A shiver ran down her spine. 

The thought of Clemence or any tranquil here to be forcefully possessed only to be struck down, so their skulls could be used to find elven shards. No, she’d do what she could to prevent it. 

“Nothing.” She replied tight lipped and carried on toward the stairs. She’ll just have to be extra careful to only go to Felix’s room and ignore everyone else. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Now familiar with where the room was she didn’t have to ask, but she still felt bad passing that slave. Paloma stopped and looked at her with a soft smile. “Thank you again.” She took three grapes from the tray again and handed them to the slave. 

The slave grabbed the offered fruit. She gave a slow nod and a small smile. “Thank you.” 

Paloma beamed upon hearing her voice. It was soft and lyrical. She didn’t try to press it, merely hefted the tray up her hip and pushed to the door. She knocked as before, waiting for the invitation and stepped into the dark and stale room. 

“Ah!” Felix smiles upon seeing her. “And here I thought you replacing Linnea was a one time occurrence. Yet here you are, again.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky then.” Paloma responded with a hand on her hip. “On the bed again?”

Felix blinked, the heat in his neck rose before he registered she was referring to the tray of food she brought. “Ah yes. Please.” He swallowed and shifted to sit more upright. 

“Your cough seems to be doing better today I see?” Paloma placed the tray on the bed and ensured it was steady. 

“Yes. My father’s latest potion seems to be working quite well.” He responded. He eyed the bowl and the small container of a brown powder. He breathed in. “Cinnamon?” He quirked a brow. 

“I find some cinnamon and apple slices make porridge a little less bland.” She explained with a smile. 

“Ah. Then thank you. Anything to spice up the day I suppose.” He picked up his spoon and lightly sprinkled cinnamon over the porridge. He dipped an apple slice in and took a bite. His eyelids fluttered closed and he leant his head back. 

“Well?” Paloma waited. 

“There’s something else. I’ve had cinnamon and porridge before.” Felix noted with a squint. “I can’t quite place it.”

Paloma grinned. “Instead of honey or sugar to sweeten it, I used maple syrup.” She stepped back. 

“Hmm.” Felix hummed as he took another bite, watching her. “This is really quite delicious. I don’t believe I’ve ever had maple syrup before.”

“I’m pleased. Anyway, I shall leave you to your meal, good day serah.” She gave a bow and backed out of the room. 

Felix watched her go while sucking on an apple slice. His gaze stayed on her until the last of her skirt and robe disappeared behind the door. The already dark and stale room became darker in her absence. Like clouds rolling in on a sunny day turning to night. 

He blamed his solitude and quarantine. Left to his own devices while recovering from a rather nasty recurrence of blight sickness, he found himself desiring contact with anyone at all. In this case a servant. Though he supposed be preferred Paloma to Linnea. Her cheerful disposition and smile were a welcome change to his current existence. 

“Paloma…” he muttered her name. It was Antivan with Ancient Tevene roots. Perhaps the 11th Imperial century? Some kind of bird, perhaps? He’d have to check his books. It has been some time since he brushed up on his linguistics.

Once he finished breaking his fast, he pushed the tray aside and climbed out of bed. The world swayed beneath him until he steadied himself to walk toward his chest to dress for the day. There was a basin of water he used to wash his face. He contemplated between the green or gold robes. His gaze lingered on the gold. They almost matched the gold of Paloma’s eyes. 

He shook his head and changed into the green ones before pulling out a book titled Demesnes of the Fade, a Comprehensive Study on the Politics of the Fade by Livia Arida. The compilation of his mother’s last work compiled by her apprentices and published post mortem. He found the chapter he was last reading. The margins were filled with his notes. He set a quill down and pulled his journal out as he set about reading the chapter, “Finite cultures to Infinite Beings” 

> The virtue of the fade being a reflection of the real, constitutes that their society, as it were, should in theory reflect our own. In many respects it does, to a point. The fade reflects a world ever changing and dominated by species of short lifespans set in an infinity of time stretching into past, present, and future; where such boundaries of time mean nothing to the denizens of the fade. As such it not only reflects current modes of cultural structure but past ones as well, including those of cultures long since gone.
> 
> By this alone one could theoretically find a reflection of the lives of the lost Barindurians, if one were to know what to look for. Yet on the basis of the Fade’s denizens viewing time not as a flow but as a complex constant, you find those portraying Barindur's political structure as though Barindur yet exists. 

Felix pushed against his chair and dipped his quill into the inkbottle and began notating his thoughts as he read over the case study experiments on visits to the fade or viewing windows into the fade. His mother’s research team found commonalities of Fade political structures and the real world in startling patterns. Patterns Felix believed could be numerically tracked and predicted. Maybe upon reaching a specific population size? Some sort of event or perhaps a build up of magical energies that could be worked out into a formula. 

If there was something Felix learned, is that magic and the fade were manipulated with numbers. Even runes and glyphs were constructed on the basis of specific calculations. 

He worked diligently until the knock on his door alerted him his father had arrived for supper. He often lost track of time in this room. With the curtains permanently drawn, it was difficult, save for the candles that denoted the passing hours. 

“Felix!” Gereon tutted. “What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting.”

Gereon walked in with slaves pushing a cart with their supper. Besides Gereon was Fiona. The former Grand Enchanter of the Southern Circles.

“There is only so much resting one can do without the mind revolting.” Felix sighed as his father grabbed the book off his table and eyed the title. 

A soft fond smile came over Gereon as he placed a well meant hand on Felix’s shoulder. “Continuing your research?”

“What else am I meant to do while you have me captive here?” Felix gave his father a critical eye. 

“You...you aren’t captive.” Gereon bit around a wince. “Just last week you visited the gardens. 

“Under armed watch.” Felix retorted.

“Well…” Even Gereon was forced to admit that was much. “How about, at the week’s end we-” 

“Play chess in the gardens?” Felix finished for him and turned back to his book. "I'd rather not, to be honest."

“You don’t want to play chess with your doting father?” Gereon mock gasped. 

“I’d like to be able to go where I please again. Even if it’s with one of the slaves as a guard.” Felix groaned. “I’ll keep close, father.” 

Gereon stared long at his son, the option to let him go where he wished weighed heavy on him. He’s not let Felix out of his sight for long since before his wife’s death. It wasn’t like he kept him chained but he did prefer his son remain where he could find. 

“You’ve only just gotten over a bad bout of sickness. Let us not tempt it.” Gereon told him. Felix’s jaw tightened and he pursed his lips, annoyed and chaffing under him. “But...at weeks end, if you are feeling as well as you are now, I will…consider allowing you free roam of Redcliffe. But only if Idris accompanies you.” 

Felix looked at his father shocked. “Truly?” 

“Truly.” Gereon admitted, despite the nervous energy running through him at the thought. “Now...allow Fiona to examine you.” He gestured at the waiting elven mage, the former Grand Enchanter. 

“Of course.” Felix rose, a pep in his step as he removed his robe to allow the elf to check for any blighted splotches. There were none per his own inspections, but Fiona was the former Grey Warden, he might have missed something.

Who knows, once he gets to roam Redcliffe he may be able to see if he received word from Dorian. Hopefully he will have already set out from Tevinter and was making his way down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix while chaffing under his confinement, misses his friend Dorian and begins to develop a physical attraction to Paloma. Unfortunately he makes a series of bad assumptions about her, who returns the favor in kind.

Felix was awake and dressed the next morning before Paloma’s knock for entry. The last few days he typically slept until the knock came. He’d gotten used to Linnea’s brusque attitude and demeanor. She’d knock and come right in only to drop his tray of breakfast at the table. No smile, no preamble, no conversation. Just in and out. 

Once he tried to grab the tray from her, only for her to withdraw. He wasn’t a leper, but he understood why she kept his distance. Blight sickness at this stage, while not contagious, was not something one wished to catch. If it did turn into a plague, he’d be to blame for her becoming sick. So he didn’t blame Linnea keeping her distance. Yet he couldn’t help the sting it caused to his ego.

But Paloma… Paloma knew he was sick. Maker he even warned her away because of it. Yet she did not retreat, and instead came closer. Not only that, she knocked and waited to be allowed entry, offered his breakfast to be served where he wished and even gave him his tea when he broke into a coughing fit. She had a much better disposition than Linnea. And was certainly a lot more pleasing to look at. From her straying from their bun, silver hairs tickling across her sun dark neck, to the way her lips pursed in thought, and the sway in her walk and the flash of her bare ankles when her robes raised. 

In a way she reminded him of when Dorian first came under his father. A smirk, smile, and pursed lips when he thought of a witty come back. With a sway to his hips as he picked books from their shelves. He remembered staring at Dorian for hours when he should have been studying himself. 

He clenched his jaw, looking down toward his lap. The thoughts he entertained caused a mild stirring. Maker he needed to leave this room if this is what his mind was straying to. The week’s end could not come fast enough. 

The knock at the door sounded and quickly he ensured nothing could be detected before he called for them to enter. 

“Oh you’re out of bed this morning!” Paloma greeted. 

“I find myself feeling better today.” He closed his book as she crossed toward him. 

“So you’ll be wanting breakfast on the table, then?”

“If you wouldn’t mind-” He trailed off, intending on asking her to set it on the side. Instead she propped the tray on her hip and began unloading each plate to the table as if setting it. A plate of sweet pastries, strips of smoked meat, an assortment of grapes, cubed mango, and of course his bitter tea. She did so quickly and expertly. He’s only ever seen barmaids in the cafes of Val Royeaux and restaurants of Minrathous or the Ambassadoria handle a full tray like that before. “Oh…” 

“Is there anything else you’ll be wanting tonight sir?” Paloma spoke snappily with a forced smile.

Felix furrowed his brow. “Sorry, tonight?” He looked at the candle for reassurance of the time of day.

She blinked rapidly, slowly realizing her folly. Her cheeks flushed. “Um, sorry I was on auto just then.” She muttered. “Maker haven’t said that in a while, it just comes out in familiar situations. It’s like second nature in these sorts of situations.”

With a quirked brow, he perused his spread today and grabbed a cube of mango. “Where did you use to say that frequently enough?” He plopped the cube in his mouth. 

Paloma eyed him and then squinted in thought. “Been almost five years. But I used to be a server in a tavern.”

“I was unaware the southern Circles allowed their mages to work in taverns.” Felix was shocked the southern Circles would have allowed such a thing. He hadn’t expected them to be so progressive.

“Well, I wasn’t a mage then.” Paloma admitted. “Or...well didn’t come into my magic yet.” 

Felix blinked rapidly. Five years? He gulped down the mango. Maker if that was only five years ago… Paloma must only be seventeen at best. 

“Sorry…” He coughed. “How old are you?” He panicked as guilt crept through him at the thoughts he’d had yesterday and just moments before she came in. He really needed to get out of this room if he was having such lecherous thoughts about a child!

Paloma narrowed her eyes at him. “Is it not rude to ask a woman her age?” 

“I hardly doubt it’s rude to ask a child such.” He retorted brusquely, whilst crossing his arms. 

Paloma took a step back at being called a child. Her mouth opened before she shut it and turned to walk out. 

Felix realized he may have been a little abrupt and rude. “Paloma…” He called, but she slammed the door behind her as she left, leaving him to the silence of his dark room. He released a groaning breath as he sat. 

He really shouldn’t have been so short with her. It wasn’t her fault. He was the one having lingering licentious thoughts. 

When his father came in for lunch, he played a round of chess as his father talked about the recent research he and Fiona had worked through. They were testing a different process for his powders with an extract of Royal Elfroot. It was all very medicinal.

“We may even be able to return to Tevinter soon.” Gereon puffed his chest. 

Felix eyed his father. That was a lie. He knew they wouldn’t be going back to Tevinter until his father completed the task set out to him. He wasn’t entirely sure who but the other Magisters that came with them were not the usual sorts his father had interactions with.

He knew his father was edging into dangerous territories the moment he requested all manifests regarding Magister Helladius of ages past and cooperated with Magister Lucanus. Lucanus was a known Tevinter Supremacist in the Magisterium, even if he wasn’t exactly vocal on the floor. It was what happened behind closed doors that let him and his father know where his loyalties lied. 

While his father has always been proud of his country, and even did marked research to furthering the Tevinter army against the Qun - this… this was foolishness. 

“I look forward to returning home.” Felix replied, even as he lost the game. He needed to contact Dorian. 

Just before the evening meal, Niris knocked on his door to escort him to the evening banquet. He usually attended those as his father had to keep up appearances with the other Magisters, him included. But he did not feel quite to the task of sitting there listening to them talk of how great Tevinter will be or talk down the barbarism of Ferelden.

“Tell the kitchens I will be taking my meal in my room.” He told Niris, his father’s slave, who nodded and left the room. He paced. At week’s end he’d be free to get word to Dorian. He would feel better if Dorian were present. 

A knock at his door and the door opened. “Felix, why is Niris absent from your hall? Have you sent her to retrieve something?” Gereon entered wearing black robes for dinner. 

“Yes,” Felix eyed his father and sat on the chaise lounge. “My dinner. I think I’d like to take it in here.”

“Is something the matter?” Gereon approached. 

“No.” Felix assured. “I just think I should rest in preparation for the week’s end.” He smiled. 

“Ah.” Gereon smiled. “That would be wise yes.” He looked around. “Have you been continuing your research?” 

“Nay. Mostly I have been reading Living in Redcliffe by Sister Dorcas Guerrin.” Felix grasped for some topic to bore his father, to be rid of him. “Did you know, that Redcliffe castle is a famed fortress that can house up to a thousand comfortably, including the soldiers?” 

“No I don’t believe I did.” Gereon replied, though his eyes began to glaze over. 

“Well, the Guerrin’s took up residence when the Freeholders pledged their allegiance. Oh! Which fascinating thing about the royalty and nobility of Ferelden. It is not a divine right they rule, or by birth or bloodline. But rather the freeholders choose a Bann or Arl to support-” 

“Felix- Felix.” Gereon interrupted. 

“One moment-” Felix crossed to the bookshelves and found the book ‘Notable Fortresses, Castles, Towers, and Other Edifices of Interest in Ferelden’. “I was just reading here that the castle was built to specific-”

“Felix, I’m glad you’re enjoying the history of the Castle, but if you’re to take evening meal here, I cannot join you as I still need to make appearances.” 

“Oh…” Felix purposefully deflated, watching the guilt cross his father’s face. Good. 

“We’ll discuss more on this later. For now-”

A knock sounded at the still open door. Paloma was there, her eyes widened when she caught his father scrutinizing her. 

“Ah…” Felix excitedly stepped forward. He could apologize to her. “Come in.” He invited her and she stepped in slowly. Her shoulders tense as she ducked her head. His father watched every move she made, tracking her. 

“And who is this?” 

“She’s the new mage delivering my morning meals and tea.” Felix brushed it off. Why was his father so interested in her? 

“New?” Gereon quirked a brow. “What happened to the other one? Linnea? I specifically arranged for her to deliver your meals.”

“From what I understand, she stopped...but never gave a reason.” Felix eyed Paloma as she quickly set his table for his evening meal, keeping her body stiff and tight. There was almost a tremble to her hands as she peered up at his father, before ducking her head back down. She was afraid of him. Why?

“Hmph.” Gereon squinted. “Are you…” he looked toward Paloma pointedly, his gaze trailing down her form. “**…****pleased** with her?”

Felix stilled and looked at Paloma. Is…was his father implying… He gulped remembering stories Dorian had told him of the lengths his parents went. Forcing women into his bed chambers at night in their attempt to ‘cure’ him of his proclivities. But there was a difference between him and Dorian. He at least found the company of women to be the same as the company of men.

“At least more than Linnea?” Gereon added.

“Ah...yes?” Felix wasn’t sure how to navigate this situation while also protecting Paloma from the insinuations. 

“Good.” Gereon smiled brightly. “Then, I shall leave you to your meal. And do…” Gereon turned his gaze on Paloma who had been trying to sneak out and froze. “...try not to over exhaust yourself.” He turned and nodded to Niris as they exited. The door closing with a finality. 

Felix looked to Paloma, who was shaking. She peeked back at him.

“Paloma,” he broke the silence startling her. She squeaked and rushed for the door. He rushed after her instinctively and slammed it before she could open it enough to escape. “Wait!”

“This must be why Linnea refused to deliver your meals anymore.” Paloma burst out as she pressed against the wall. “You forced yourself on her!” 

Felix stepped back as if slapped. “I did no such thing. I barely spoke a word to her, much less got within range to touch her.” 

“And how do I know you’re not lying?” 

“You can ask her! What likely happened is my father propositioned her to prostrate herself to me!” Felix explained. “I certainly do not blame her any longer for her brusque manner. My only regret is that my father would even think to…” He growled at the assumption his father made.

“Why...why would he do that.” 

“Because,” through gritted teeth, he bit out, “because he thinks I enjoy the company of men.” 

“Oh…” Paloma sighed. “And do you?”

He turned his back to her and let out a slow breath. He remembered the looks Dorian got when he came out with it, publicly. Could he do so now? Even if to an elven mage? 

“Yes.” 

The relieved laugh and breath she released were not comforting to him. “So you don’t even like women.” 

“Untrue.” He snapped. Felix bristled at her assumption now. “I also very much enjoy the company of women.” 

Paloma stiffened quick. 

“But I am not some beast or wandering deviant as to force my affections on the unwilling.” He walked away. “Especially not a child such as you.” 

Paloma glared at him. “I am **not** a child.” 

“Please.” He rolled his eyes at her. He remembered being that young and insisting he was a man. “Seventeen is still three years away from adulthood. I’d be labeled a lecher for even entertaining the thought.” 

“It’s a good thing I’m not seventeen.” Paloma hissed. 

“Sixteen then.” 

“Why don’t you multiply that number by two.” Paloma glared with her arms crossed. 

Thirty-two? He stared at her. But that would mean that he...he was **younger** **than** **her.** His mouth floundered open. “But...you…” 

“Yes I know, I have an extraordinary baby face problem, but I assure you I am thirty-two.” Paloma huffed. “May I leave, or does ‘milord’ want to ask my bust, waist, and hip measurements next?” 

“You’ve measured?” He replied in confusion.

“Ugh.” Paloma left with a second door slam of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to LonelyAgain for some period appropriate consistency.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clemence and Paloma do test gardening for alchemical purposes and prepare for the next day's morning meal while instilling in Banon that it wasn’t just mages who were victimized in the Circles.

Clemence was in the garden shed after their evening meal when Paloma burst in with an aggravated tone. He was in the midst of adding compost to the pot of Andraste’s Grace they had planted. They were having difficulties simulating the growth conditions found in the wilds. 

“The nerve of that…” Paloma leant against the door. 

“You are upset.” Clemence droned as he turned the soil and added the dead wood back in. 

“Just a little.” She seethed, sinking into a squat by the door with a sigh. “I trust by the fact you’re turning the soil the seed didn’t sprout?” 

“Unfortunately, no.” 

“Maybe we should try waterlogging it. It might need sitting water to flourish.” She rose and came over. “The flowers are found near ground pools afterall.”

“Sitting water will only produce mold.” Clemence noted as Paloma came over. 

“I know, but some plants grow best in sitting water. Rice for instance.” She brought up. “Grows in flooded water to easily prevent weed growth.”

“This is true.” Clemence admitted with a thoughtful nod. “However we have precious few seeds. With more, it would allow further testing of viable soil conditions. But as it is, the current method produces the flowers, even if they aren’t as potent or viable as the wild ones.” 

Paloma sighed, eyeing the pot with a frown. “Yeah...you’re right. We’ll have to grow more of them this way to get the same quantity and potency levels in our extract.”

“Perhaps we can petition the Grand Enchanter in allowing us a respite to the wilds.” Clemence suggested. 

“Doubt she’ll grant it.” Paloma pushed at the soil. With a huff of breath she turned back to the door. “Alright, I need to go find Linnea and speak with Bronwynn. Will you be alright to prep for tomorrow morning in the kitchen?” 

“Yes.” Clemence nodded as he finished setting the pot by the sunglowstone. He returned to the kitchen as Banon and Keili returned from the mage’s mess hall. 

“All I’m saying is, it would behoove us if we took a trip to Kinloch. The Templars abandoned it. There are bound to be books left, assuming they didn’t burn them all. Plus, think of the phylacteries. The Templars couldn’t have transported all of them!” Banon told Keili. “You know your way around Kinloch, right?”

Keili stared at Banon. “I do. The repository was untouched when we left it.” 

“See. It’d be easy.” Banon grinned. “We take a boat up, pick around and grab what we can. Maybe even sell a few staffs…”

“There will be no visiting Kinloch.” Clemence interjected. “We have to prepare for the morning meal.” 

“Bah, I can have that prepared and ready easy.” Banon’s hands glowed. The kitchen coming alive with floating bowls, knives, and vegetables. The knives slicing through vegetables are odd chunks.

Clemence stared at the bowl and pulled it and the knife down. “Your spellwork is lacking precision. The vegetables need to be cut finely and as equal in size and shape as possible. Your smallest onion slices will burn before the rest finishes cooking.” He took over the cutting, but not before pulling a necklace around his neck and activating the enchantment. The knives, bowls, and vegetables fell from the air. 

“Hey…” Banon tried to cast again but found it difficult to do so. “What did you do?” 

“Prepare the dough, it needs to rest overnight.” Clemence instructed. 

“Not until you tell me what you did!” Banon growled. 

“A mage shall not rely on their arcane gifts until they master the mundane method first.” Clemence slid the rune back under his shirt, only for Banon to grab at him.

“Is that a spell purge enchantment?!” Banon gapped. “That’s a templar’s weapon. Where did you get that?” He hissed. 

Clemence was collected and patient as he waited for Banon to remove his hands. When he did, he straightened his robes and gave a pointed gesture. “Prepare the dough.” 

Banon glared at Clemence but did begin preparing the dough. Clemence and Keili cleaned up the mess made by Banon’s spell work before they set to preparing sauces for tomorrow’s meals. Keili went to churn some more butter, before she was off to sleep. 

Banon wiped his hands clean of flour when the last dough was covered and set aside just as Paloma entered. She eyed Banon’s glare at Clemence who was writing on a parchment the things that would need to be purchased or traded to keep the kitchen stocked. Salt specifically. 

“The atmosphere here is kind of tense, is everything alright?” Paloma checked on the dough. 

“Did you know your tranquil pet has a Templar weapon on him?” Banon asked. “I bet he would side with the Templars if given the chance. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Returning to the Circles.” 

Clemence was unperturbed by the accusation. “I have no preference either way. Circles or no, I will continue my research with Paloma.” 

Paloma’s warm smile gave him that same satisfaction again, until she turned toward Banon with an eye roll. 

“Okay, first off, he’s not my pet. Secondly… Templar weapon?” Paloma mused. “Clemence doesn’t have any weapons on him.” She sighed. 

“Oh? Why don’t you ask about the necklace he wears.” Banon suggested.

“Necklace?” Paloma squinted. “Oh you mean the runes?” 

“Yes, the one with a spell purge.” Banon insisted. 

“Well…” Paloma sighed. “I suppose most mages would take it as a weapon.” 

“And you wouldn’t?” 

“I’d take it as protection.” 

* * *

**9:38 DRAGON**

Knight-Vigilant Trentwatch’s office was as pristine and orderly as the Spire’s stockroom. Both of which were maintained by the Tranquil. As was to be expected by their meticulous and precise mannerisms. 

“Are you settling in?” Trentwatch asked as he poured two glasses of brandy, one he held out to Paloma who sat before his desk. Her hair had grown since the last time he had seen her. His duties often led him away from the Spire to the Grand Cathedral. With the news from Kirkwall, tensions were rising in Circles everywhere. He was in endless meetings with the Seekers and Knights Divine regarding actions to be taken.

“I should think so. It’s been a year.” Paloma answered honestly as she grabbed the glass. Long since had she healed from the burns that he recalled covering most of her arms and legs. Now she sat before him mostly harm free. His gaze lingered to her bandaged covered ears. 

“I understand there was an incident?” He gestured to her ears.

“I was…” Paloma was tight lipped and gripping her glass. “...correcting a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He rose a brow. 

“I should never have been made an elf.” She seethed. 

“Made?” That was an odd word choice. 

“Born.” She corrected with a grimace. “Co-conceived. It’s wrong.”

“Wrong? The Maker brought you into this world as an elf. Do you doubt the Maker?” 

“No!” Panic and wide eyes answered him. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “The Maker also cursed mages with magic. Do Templars doubt the Maker when the Rite is performed?”

“A fair point.” He admitted to her, but waited for more from her. 

“Magic has uses for the Chantry. I can...I’ve come to accept my…” She grit her teeth, forcing out the word. “...gifts.” She shuddered. “But being an elf...it’s purely aesthetic. There’s no reason to be born an elf. And if the only indication of an elven heritage is physical properties such as pointed ears, then you can remove or change those by force.” 

“But why maim or disfigure yourself, when you could have used a glamour?” Trentwatch observed her carefully. Her expression went to confusion first, curiosity, then horror, and finally resolution. 

“It wouldn’t be the same.” She stated. “A glamour is just a lie.”

That satisfied him greatly and resolved many worries. There were still some, but that was the largest portion of it. She would not rely on her magic to solve her problems. 

“Correct you are.” He nodded. “Drink the brandy. It’s Antivan, from the fourth age.” He settled at his desk.

Paloma took a sip but grimaced. “Thank you, but I’m not one for brandy.” She slid the cup on the desk. 

“No?” He smiled and grabbed it back. “Alright, tell me about your studies. You’ve advanced past many of the basic lessons. Literacy, penmanship, arithmancy. But I hear there is some trouble unless a Templar is called in.” 

“I….” she faltered and froze. “I don’t like being asked to use magic for such trivial things as tests.” 

“Trivial?” He steepled his fingers. “You realize these tests are to measure your aptitude in specific schools of magic.” 

“Is there not a school that does not require such explosive or destructive magic?” Paloma queried. 

“Yes. Arcane and Spirit.” He answered. 

“Then can I not be placed with a mentor to teach me those? Why can I not choose where my further studies lead?” 

“It is not so simple.” Trentwatch drummed his fingers. “Those under the Arcane school have little magical power and thus rely entirely on ambient magic to strengthen their spells.”

“That one sounds lovely. I’d love to learn that one instead of the elemental schools they keep trying to test me for.” 

“Your magic would be ill suited for that as you have no need to embolden your spells. Your Maker-given gifts would be put to waste in that track.” 

“Then Spirit?” 

“You wish to consort with spirits and learn spirit healing? I can certainly have Enchanter Rhys examine your aptitude for such-”

“Spirits?” The panic in her voice rose and she sunk in her chair further. “You mean demons? NO! No no no. I don’t… I don’t want to deal with demons. No.” Her eyes wide and form shaking, fearful. 

A mage should be afraid of demons, but this visceral reaction was one that leant itself to a past encounter with a demon. Despite both Wynne and Rhys’s examinations of her, there was no indication of possession. Curious. 

“My dear, what did you think the Spirit school of magic entailed?” 

“Wisps?” She sheepishly offered with a hopeful shrug.

“Initially yes, but for proper spirit healing the mage requires a pact with a spirit to, again, embolden their magic to bring those mortally wounded back from the brink where the medicinal sciences can take over.” Trentwatch explained. “Nay, you would not be suited for Spirit either.” 

She sunk further, dejected. 

“Tell me, why the aversion to the elemental schools.” Trentwatch opened the scroll before him, reading a few lines down. “According to the Senior Enchanter’s reports it’s only when they ask you to manifest any fire or lightning do you have trouble.” He looked up at her. She avoided his gaze, looking instead at her hands. “Why is that?” 

“I’m scared.” Her voice quivered.“I’m scared that if I use fire magic that I’ll…” She paled and tucked her hands around her. “...lose control.” 

“Like when we found you?” Trentwatch sucked in a breath as she nodded. It was a valid concern for a mage new to their abilities, and especially one as old as she. 

To be such a late bloomer was almost unheard of. Almost. There were cases of hedge mages found, where their magic manifested and was expressed through unreplicable means. It made them more susceptible to possession, blood magic, and temptations. It was called arcane derangement. But Paloma, per her own admission, had never expressed her magic. And indeed her preference toward the mundane allowed for an observation to learn where her magic might have been expressed. But there was none. No other expression elsewhere. It was an anomaly and left Trentwatch wary. Not about her, but in the possibility that there were other mages out there. Magic manifesting so late in life. They had to be vigilant, to learn how this was possible and if it could happen again.

“I understand your concern.” He tapped his scroll. “Would it make you feel more comfortable if there were two templars present during your examinations?” 

“Maybe three?” Paloma asked hopeful. 

With a bark of laughter, Trentwatch shook his head. “Most mages would prefer there be **fewer **Templars around.” He breathed and flipped the scroll closed. “Very well, I will inform the Senior Enchanters there shall be three Templars for each exam.”

Paloma breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

“I trust, there won’t be any other issues?” 

“No.” 

“Good, you may go.” 

“Thank you, Knight Vigilant.” She gave a quick bow and opened the door. 

“Clemence.” Trentwatch called as she left the door open for the tranquil. 

Clemence entered mutely, closing the door behind him. 

“Sit.” Trentwatch ordered. The tranquil obeyed and sat opposite him. “What do you have to report? Any change?”

“It was as you suspected. Once the fear of her capabilities wore off, many of the Templars allow their gazes to linger.” Clemence reported mutely. 

Trentwatch breathed heavy and turned to his window. He stared out over to the capital city. To the lines of roads and buildings of a familiar route toward the Grand Cathedral. “I will issue a command to the Templars. I am aware of the liberties they take with the mages and tranquil, but this particular mage… they are to leave alone.” 

“If the Knight Vigilant would allow. May I ask why?”

“Do you know how many mages willingly submit themselves to Templar control, prefer the company of tranquil, **and** refuse to use their magic unless commanded to?” Trentwatch turned. 

Clemence knew the answer was few and too far between each. 

“After what happened at Kirkwall, we will need a force to keep the other mages at bay should any...entertain...rebellious thoughts.” He stated. “And they will. They always do.” He grabbed the abandoned glass of brandy and walked toward a chest besides his reading couch. “I’ll not have them give her any reason to turn her back on the Templars, the Circle, or the Chantry. Not with her capabilities.” 

“Of course.”

“However, I am no fool.” He opened the chest. “Come, drink this.” He held Paloma’s still full brandy glass to Clemence. “You are to remain close to her, though I doubt that will be difficult given her preference for Tranquil company. If you ever feel her will falters or she is in danger, you will use these.” 

Clemence approached, eyeing the glass and the chest. He took one sip. The taste was bitter, yet he drank it all. It was warming and filled his cheeks with the same heat that went down. He coughed around the kick back. “Runes, ser?”

He held one of the runes up by the chain. “They are imbued with the abilities of a Templar.” he lifted the second chain up. “And a Seeker.” 

Clemence clasped them both around his neck. “Should any Templar abuse their position with her, you have my written permission to use these for her protection.” 

* * *

**PRESENT**

“Protection?” Banon gasped. “Against who?”

“Are there or are there not mages currently residing in the hinterlands attacking any who go against them?” Paloma leveled Banon with a look. “Including other mages.” 

“Fair point, but we’re not in the Hinterlands.” Banon snapped. 

“True, but that does not stop abuses from happening. Those runes are protection, from myself and other mages.” She shrugged. “Templars weren’t the only ones to physically or sexually abuse the tranquil.”

Banon floundered. “Tranquil are emotionless, desireless, and blank faced. They would get no enjoyment out of it. Why would a mage ever force themselves on a tranquil?” 

“Why would a Templar?” Paloma shot back. “It’s about power, not preference - though sometimes that factors in.” She crossed her arms and looked at Clemence. 

“Most mages find solace in each other.” Clemence recalled the amount of times he had to clean up after some of the mages’ midnight trysts. 

“But some are too twisted by their circumstances. They’re drawn by the temptation a Tranquil presents. A partner, no a **victim** that is completely obedient. Especially for mages who are bereft of their agency in a Circle, searching for some method to retain or regain power.” Paloma carried on. 

“Tranquil and mages are just as victimized by the Templars. They should be allies.” Banon insisted. “We are allies are we not. What use of it do you have here.” 

“Logically, that would be wise.” Clemence spoke finally. “But that was and is often not the case.” He set the vegetables he’d cut into a pot with water and a bundle of herbs. His hand touched the cauldron’s enchantment. It would warm it slowly overnight. A slow cooker, as Paloma called it. 

“Look around, Banon. What are the tranquil doing right now? Either they’re serving the mages food or cleaning up after them. Only a few mages join them in their duty because there aren’t enough tranquil to fill each job.” Paloma leant against the counter. “It’s always been a hierarchy.” 

“Templars have the true power and mages with simulated power and at the bottom are the Tranquil. Subjected to abuse not only by Templars, but mages as well. If mages were treated no better than animals then-”

“Tranquil are treated as objects.” Clemence finished for her with a lack of intonation. “We are seen as naught but tools.” 

“And if mages are prisoners of the Circle. Then Tranquil are the prisoners with jobs.” Paloma continued, now moving to help set up for the morning. “Mages are at worst conscripted soldiers or healers when the Chantry requires. But are allowed freedom within the confines of the Circle, some even granted permission to come and go as they please. But Tranquil have no such liberties. They get no say, no choice, no pay. The Chantry sells their wares and takes all the credit and coin while forcing them to work.” 

“Often without rest.” Clemence added. 

“What would you call that, Banon?”

Banon was now deeply disturbed. His brows furrowed as he muttered, “Slavery.”

“Chantry approved slavery.” Clemence corrected. 

“Except, it’s not legal.” Paloma winked. 

“What?” Banon asked. 

“The Circle is where Mages are held. But a Tranquil no longer has magic.” 

“Why are we held captive if we pose no threat?” Clemence asked. 

“Exactly.” Paloma nodded. 

“There is a cure for tranquility. They still pose a threat, a greater threat. You heard the report just as I, surely. You were from the White Spire, you were at the center.”

“Aye…” Paloma smirked. “And we only just found out about that this past year. So why have tranquil been forced to stay in the Circles for ages?

They waited to see if Banon could figure it out. When he remained silent, Clemence spoke up. “So mages can feel false contentment in their position and tell themselves, ‘At least I’m not tranquil.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That subtle indirect kiss neither of them know about.
> 
> Thank you to LonelyAgain for helping with consistency.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clemence recalls the start and defining moment in his friendship with Paloma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning** Implied Past & Current Sexual Abuse

Banon left for the night with much to think about with regard to the purpose of the tranquil in the circles. Leaving only Paloma and Clemence in the kitchen, as it was most nights. Clemence wiped down the counters and swept the floor while Paloma scrubbed the various spoons, ladles, and pans they used. The silence between them calming. If it were possible, Clemence would much prefer it be just Paloma and he tending to the kitchen. But as it was, there were too many tasks and not enough hands to do it. Magic could solve some of that but…

He looked at Paloma who set the last pan away. 

She was uncomfortable in exorbitant and trivial uses of her magic. If he were not tranquil, that would certainly solve the issue. 

Clemence paused. It had been some time since he recalled his time as a mage. The power he wielded and the danger he posed that resulted in the Templars suggesting the Rite, among other reasons. He was moved from the Circle of Antiva City to Ansburg upon being made tranquil and when he showed talent in alchemical matters applied to agriculture they had him sent to the White Spire. 

Strange the distance he traveled. 

“Why did you use the runes anyway?” Paloma broke their silence and his thoughts. 

Clemence blinked. “Banon was using magic recklessly to attempt to quickly prepare for the next day’s meals.” 

“Recklessly?” 

“He levitated and mobilized everything in the kitchen.” 

“Even the knives?” 

“Yes.” 

“Eek, okay yeah dangerous.” 

Clemence nodded believing she was satisfied with the answer until she squinted. 

“But how was that dangerous for you or me for that matter?” Paloma drummed her fingers. 

Clemence took a breath, recalling his thought process of the moment. There had been no immediate threat. “If I allowed Banon to continue his reckless preparation, the proportions would be incorrect. The meal would end up poorly and may displease a Magister, specifically Magister Alexius.”

Paloma nodded. “Okay, I see the logic there.” 

“They may also reassign you from the kitchens and we may be separated. It would be...” Clemence tried to find the right word. Paloma watching him intently with, what he recognized was, a hopeful expression. “Inconvenient.” 

“Ah…” Her shoulders dropped and she smiled. “Well, with that logic I don’t blame you.” 

They lapsed back into silence. Paloma checking on the cauldron once. 

“I wish to thank you.” Clemence faced her. “You defended my decision to use the rune without question.” 

“Of course I would!” Paloma assured him. “You’re my friend. I trusted you had good reason to use it.” 

Clemence tilted his head. He did not have many friends. Former colleagues in the alchemy lab in other tranquil, but not friends. Not like Paloma. 

No instead he’d had visitors. They interrupted him with lingering glances, whispered words, trespass into his personal space and licentious touches that disturbed his work and culminated into a signal of intention. For a time he incorrectly assumed Paloma to merely be such a visitor. But she had no such intention. Her touches were simply an expression of her friendship. A fact he did not always know.

* * *

**9:38 DRAGON**

“Are those deep mushrooms?” Paloma asked across the alchemist table from him. 

Clemence did not glance up from the magnifying quartz as he had already cut into the mushroom. He could not immediately answer for if he opened his mouth, he may inhale some of the spores. Instead he reached over and grabbed the glass cover and placed it over to contain them. “Please do not come near while I am studying this sample.” He warned as he washed his hands. “But yes, those are deep mushrooms. Specifically those that have grown on the corpses of blighted spiders.” 

“Blighted spiders?” Paloma gasped and took a step back. “You could become tainted!” 

“Fret not, most deep mushroom types are not contagious. But the spores do cause sickness and can develop a wasting illness if not treated quickly.” He assured. 

“Oh.” Paloma released a sigh. 

“Have you finished identifying the organs for your practical?” 

“Yep!” Paloma beamed and stood from her stool to present the dissected fennec fox. Each organ properly labeled with a strip of paper and a needle pin. 

“Good.” He nodded, marking her work. 

“Why are you studying deep mushrooms anyway?” Paloma questioned. 

“Enchanter Bronwyn of Kinloch Hold sent these samples along with a wildflower found near them ahead of Enchanter Ines Arancia. She wished for a second look at the blight sample.” 

“Wait, wait...you mean...**the** Ines Arancia?”

“Yes?” Clemence looked up as Paloma bounced on the balls of her feet. “Is something the matter? Do you require the chamberpot?” 

“What? No. Just… Ines Arancia! You’re doing study work for her! I had no idea you were helping with her field work!” Paloma beamed. 

“I merely assist in detecting potential alchemical counter measures to the blight on damaged soil. These mushrooms are key to understanding each blight’s damage over the land.” Clemence furrowed his brows as his answer caused Paloma more excitement before she quieted and leaned toward him.

“You know what this means right?” She whispered. At the confused shake of his head, she continued. “This means you know how to cure the blight.”

“Cure? No. I can minimize and recover the effect once the soil has been infected-”

“Relieving the symptoms and conditions of the disease. That’s treatment which can lead to curing.” Paloma insisted. 

“I suppose by textbook definition, you are correct.” Clemence admitted. “However, to truly prove it as a cure we would need active blight samples.” 

“How hard is that to get?” 

“If I send word to Enchanter Bronwyn to send blighted soil. It would not be too cumbersome to receive. It would certainly help to test with a live sample to explain how the wild flowers she also sent were able to survive and prosper in Ferelden during the blight.” Clemence took a few quick notes on his ideas and what to procure. He’d need a few barrels of blighted soil for the experiment and permission to create a separate garden. Separate from the Spire’s herbal garden to prevent contamination.

“Wild flowers?” Paloma questioned. 

Clemence pointed to the other dissection tray where a bundle of white flowers with a red center were. 

Paloma gasped with her hand to her mouth. “Clemence! Those are Andraste’s Grace!” 

“Andraste’s Grace?” He squinted. He’d never heard of such a flower. Even Ines hadn’t yet named them. 

Paloma stepped closer, her grip on his shoulder tight. Clemence eyed the closing distance between them as she crowded close. He looked to the entrance to the alchemical lab. The other Tranquil would not bat an eyelash, but there was the Templar just outside the room to consider. If Paloma intended to make use of him, they would have to be discreet. 

“Lets say for example we expand your research of curing blighted soil and do develop something to manage and even reverse the symptoms of taint and blight sickness. Can you imagine the impact it could have?” Paloma continued. 

“I would have to drastically improve the formulas. Make them safe for consumption.” Clemence muttered, confused on her continuing to pursue their conversation instead of leading him elsewhere. 

“True. But think of all the people who get sick just from encountering darkspawn. Think of the Grey Wardens…” Paloma trailed off, paling as though something occurred to her. “Oh…” 

“What is it?” 

“We’d have to be discreet.” She whispered. “Can’t have this leaking to the Wardens just yet, else they’d confiscate the research and take all the credit.”

Ah here it is. She was using the continued research as her excuse. Now Clemence understood her fascination in a blight cure. It was a smokescreen. 

“We’ll have to study it after most of the others have gone to their quarters but not before curfew.” Paloma nodded. “And keep our records private so no other mage gets a look and spreads gossip.” 

“Of course.” Clemence placed her marked assignment down.

“Ah, sorry. I’m talking your ear off. Just so excited!” She tapped his shoulders. “I’ll go back to my studies.” She took a step back to her desk, but pivoted. “Do you think I can begin studying one of those flowers with you today?”

“Of course.” Clemence stared at her. After Gavin’s visit and before curfew. He would have to be certain there is enough time between Templar Gavin’s scheduled visit and when Paloma wished to begin their interaction. There must be enough time so it does not invite Templar Gavin to envelop Paloma. The Knight Vigilant specified to give her no reason to turn her back on the Circle.

“Thank you!” She beamed and returned to her studies. 

That evening, an hour before curfew, found him still in the alchemical lab. Paloma arrived after her practical examination. This would have been no issue, however, Templar Gavin had only just finished his visit, leaving little time to prevent his lingering gaze. Thankfully Ser Gavin was taken care of so he had no intention of enveloping Paloma.

“Hey Clemence! I passed my practical! Finally no more biology lessons, they’re letting me get on with alchemy now! I can finally join the advanced lessons!” She beamed entering the lab with a bounce, slowing as Templar Gavin exitted the same private lab as Clemence. A swagger to his step and pleased relaxed grin. 

“Apprentice.” Gavin nodded at Paloma. 

“Ser.” Paloma ducked her head as he passed.

Clemence didn’t respond to her immediately, but walked to the wash basin where he quickly washed his hands and spat his full mouth into a nearby chamberpot. 

“It is good you have passed your practicals.” Clemence finally spoke, his voice hoarse and sore. “Excuse me, it appears I require something to drink.” 

“Sure.” Paloma nodded, but frowned as he filled a cup with water from the pump. “Clemence, is that...is that blood?” She pointed to his cheek. 

His brows furrowed in confusion as he touched the corner of his mouth. His fingers came away with blood. “It is.” 

“Did...did he...?” She turned toward where Gavin had exited. “Did he hit you?” She lowered her voice so only he could hear. 

“No.” Clemence answered honestly. What Gavin did do was push his head against the wall abruptly. Clemence hadn’t noticed his teeth had gashed his cheek in the move. He wiped the blood away. 

“Would you tell me if he did?” 

He stared and honestly answered as well. “I would.” 

“Okay…” Paloma sighed. 

“We can have discretion in this side lab.” He directed to the room he had just come from.

“Did you bite your cheek or something?”

“No.” He closed the door behind her as she walked toward an examination table where some samples were to be laid out overnight to develop a culture under a sunglowstone. “I must apologize.” Clemence began. 

“Whatever for?”

“I do not have a stamina drought with me, nor am I capable of rising so quickly after stimulated release.” Clemence unbuttoned his robes so they did not get dirty. “But I can offer assistance in other ways.”

“Assistance?” Paloma looked up as he slid his robe off. “Clemence, what are you doing?” Her voice rose in confusion.

“Removing my robes so I do not sully them. It has been some time since a woman Templar or Mage has requested my aid.” He admitted. “From my recollection it can be quite messy upon completion.”

“What?!” Paloma exclaimed, her cheeks inflaming as she went to block her sight the moment his smalls were all that he wore, but she stopped. “Wait…stop.” 

“Yes?” He had turned to hang his inner robes up. 

“Turn...turn around.” Her voice shook. He complied revealing his back to her. Her hand touched his back. 

“Ah…” His muscles flinched on reflex before he consciously stilled. 

“You said Gavin didn’t hit you.” Paloma asked. “What are these?” 

“Bruises, I suspect.”

“They’re **bleeding**.” 

“He was rather in a hurry today, as he didn’t remove his gauntlets.” Clemence explained as he turned back to face her. 

“Today?” She appeared to dry heave as the glint of tears threatened to fall. Was her emotional state unstable due to injury? 

“Did…” She rasped. “Did you consent?”

“Consent?” Clemence tilted his head, confused.

“Did you want him to do that?” 

“I did not object, though it would be preferable if my day was uninterrupted for the optimal completion of my duties.” He explained. 

“Ohgod…” She cried, stumbling away with her hand over her mouth. Was she ill?

“Paloma?” 

“Stay…stay here.” Her voice warbled with an unexpressed sob as she went for the door. “Just…stay here, don’t let anyone else enter but me. **Please**.” Paloma opened the door and closed it without waiting for his reply. 

Did he do something wrong? Could he have misinterpreted her intention? She often touched his shoulder, encroached into his personal space, suggested a discreet meeting. It was all the same indications the Templars and Mages used. Yet why was it different for her?

Paloma returned with a handful of poultices and bandages. “Please sit so I can tend to your back.” She placed her supplies down on a nearby table as he perched on a stool. He heard the water pump go. “Let me know if anything brings you pain or discomfort.” 

“Of course.” Clemence waited. 

She dipped a cloth in the water and proceeded to clean his back. He winced once when she cleaned where Gavin’s gauntlets had dug in. Paloma stopped. “Did that hurt?”

None of the templars or mages ever stopped when his wounds caused pain. “Marginally, but please proceed.” Clemence spoke instinctively. 

“The pain could mean the cut is deeper than it looks.” She explained. 

“Agreed. However all the wounds require cleaning, my discomfort should not be accounted for what is necessary.”

“I disagree.” She muttered softly, but did proceed until his back was cleaned. “I’m going to apply the poultice, alright?” At his nod she continued. 

The cooling sensation of it being spread by her gentle fingers lulled him. He swayed on the stool, pressing his back against her fingers. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes.” 

Once bandages were placed over where poultice had been applied, she handed him his robes back and turned to give him privacy. He buttoned them and straightened his skirts until he was presentable. The silence between them stretched even when he finished.

“I am clothed.” He informed and still she wouldn’t turn. “Paloma?”

“Clemence...why did you start undressing in front of me?” She didn’t look at him. 

“I…” He was confused as to why she hadn’t behaved as expected. Though he was thankful for her care to his back. Did she not use the same signals as others? Surely she knew the Circle custom of public physical over familiarity was an indication of intent for aid in physical release. 

No, she did not. 

He frowned. He made a mistake. An oversight, nay an assumption in what knowledge she possessed. He assumed that due to her advanced knowledge in arithmancy, various languages, and her literacy, that she would also know of their Circle customs, but he was wrong. 

“I had assumed your intentions of requiring assistance for physical release.” He admitted. “I was incorrect.” 

“But why?” She turned to look at him. “Why did you make that assumption? What did I do that made you think I… tell me so I can never do it again.” She had meant to approach but drew back from him, keeping her distance. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or make you feel unsafe or feel pressured.”

“Do not blame yourself. It was my folly. An oversight on my part. You’ve had no chance to learn about this particular Circle custom, among others.” Clemence explained. 

“Custom?” 

“Templars and mages indicate assistance is required to the Tranquil via public and overly familiar physical touches, encroaching in a tranquil’s personal space, and arrangement to meet discreetly.” 

Her mouth gaped in what he could recall was shock. Or perhaps horror? “Oh oh god. I didn’t know!” Her breathing quickened. 

“As I said. You have not had the chance to learn of these customs. Most new mages learn of it when they are first admitted. Either through other mages informing them or through first hand experience. But as the Templars and Mages have given you a wide berth, you’ve had no exposure.” 

“And why is that? Why are they avoiding me? Are they still scared of me?” Her voice took a note of panic. 

“Initially they were.” 

“Then why? It’s been a year! and why did no one tell me that being overly familiar is…” She paled, appearing sick at the thought. 

“They were ordered to keep their distance by the Knight Vigilant.” 

“That just brings up more questions than answers.” She despaired and backed up to the wall, eyes closed. Her breath panting. Beads of sweat appearing on her brow. The room rose in temperature. She was on the brink of having a hysterical episode, thus losing control of her carefully constructed magical restraint. The runes the Knight Vigilant gave were not on him. He would have to act quickly. 

Perhaps the calming technique to calm the new mages brought in would assist?

“Paloma.” He rose. Her hands began to glow. 

“I’m okay…” she raised a hand. It sparked, a thin film of a red flame appearing over her skin. Her eyes widened in fear. “I just…I need…” Her breath quickening into gasping inhales and exhales. 

“Paloma, listen to my voice.” He instructed. She looked at him. “I require you take in one breath, hold on my count.” She took a breath, nodding as he counted. “One.” 

She breathed in deep. 

“Two, close your eyes.” 

She clenched her eyes tight. 

“Three. Keep holding your breath.” He walked closer. “Four. Release slowly.” He counted backgrounds slowly and repeated the breathing exercise until she could breathe slowly on her own. 

While the room remained warm, it was no longer rising. Her hands were no longer aglow and there was no threat of lightning. She sat on the stool beside the one he now occupied. The silence stretched around them. 

“Clemence…” She sighed his name. 

“Yes?” 

“Where I’m from-no.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “I made an incorrect assumption as well.”

“If you would explain.”

“Before the Circle I was taught that touches like that were a sign of friendship.” Paloma looked at him. “I assumed when you didn’t object, that it was okay. I’m sorry for assuming that a lack of objection was a sign of consent. I shouldn’t have done that. And I’ll stop doing that.”

“How will you indicate when you need assistance?”

“Clemence, no I.” She licked her lips, trying to find the words. “I don’t want your help like that. I wouldn’t use you for anything you didn’t consent and want as well.”

“And should that change in the future?” Clemence was curious. 

“Even if it does, I would never...and I swear on the Maker, Clemence. I wouldn’t…” Her voice became quiet. “I wouldn’t **rape** you.” The word made her cringe, as though she had eaten a rather nasty meal. 

“Rape?” 

**“**Force myself on you.” She elaborated. “I wouldn’t-couldn’t.” Her hands twitched as if to touch him but she pressed them tightly to her lap. “And I wouldn’t force you to do anything to me.” She looked away, arms wrapped around her. 

“How will you express your physical frustrations?”

“What?” Paloma gasped. 

“To relieve your physical needs and produce a release? Templars and mages, especially, require frequent expression in order to remain in control of their abilities and maintain focus. Self expression can only hold off the inevitable. Eventually, in three months time you will need a proper outlet. If not by my hand, I can arrange one of the other Tranquil to assist you as the Templars and mages will continue to avoid you.”

“No.” Paloma shook her head. “No. Clemence, no. I won’t need that.” 

“How can you be certain?”

“Because I’ve been here a year and I-” She swallowed. “I haven’t…e-expressed myself.” She rushed out and looked away, her cheeks burned red.

“Not once?” 

“No.” 

Clemence stared. If this were true, then the others could also refrain from disturbing him. How often did they request expression assistance? What was the frequency and length as well? If it was all false and none of it was needed, why then? He will have to observe the other mages and Templars. 

They were silent for much longer this time. 

“I...” Paloma called his attention back. “I hope we can still be friends.” She stared at him, waiting. She fiddled with her sleeves as time carried on. 

Friends. He supposed he could do that, but he wanted to differentiate between friends and those seeking his aid. Even if he did prove that was needed, clearly Paloma was an anomaly. 

“You will cease to touch me unsolicited?” He asked.

“Yes. There will be no touching unless we mutually agree on it or you instigate it.” Paloma agreed. 

“And you will not encroach on my personal space?” 

“Correct.” 

“And discreet meetings will not take place?” 

“Ah...well I was seriously hoping to study the blight more.” She gave a sheepish smile. “Privately with you, but… if that is too much I would understand.”

“No that is acceptable. I am also curious about your thoughts on the blight.” Clemence muttered. No touching, his personal space will not be invaded, and he will not have to stop his duties to assist her. “Yes. We may continue to be friends.” 

* * *

**PRESENT**

Clemence lay in bed awake. The sound of Hanley’s snores were a constant through the night. Banon grumbled about it as he tried to cover his ears, tossing and turning to find a better position to block the noise but there was never a better one. Well, not any that Clemence could accomplish. 

It took a sleepily cast spell and then Banon settled in. Yet Clemence was still subjected to the sound of snores and now the hum of a magical ward. 

Normally, neither of these two things would keep him awake. But there was an unpleasantness in his stomach he could not ignore. It twisted and if he thought too long on the source, an unpleasant heat would start to rise in his throat. He recognized the biological signs but did not understand why his body was revolting. 

Had they not cooked the pigeon to the correct temperature? 

No. He trusted Paloma’s spellwork. Her inferno magic may be underdeveloped in complexity, but she learned the basics of fine temperature control and detection early. 

He thought back to the evening and…

**“You’re my ** friend. **I trusted you had good reason to use it.” **

Friend. 

Paloma had called him a friend. Initially that was true in the White Spire. But now the word was inadequate. They were more than simple friends. The word friend did not accurately portray the regard he held her in. No not regard… Respect? Esteem?

“Ah…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little longer, but this flashback took some work to get just right. Thanks to Min over on the MCIT discord who helped me nail Clemence's reasoning here.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix undergoes another examination and gets a chance to apologize to Paloma.

Felix stared at Fiona as she checked his tongue, under his chin, between his fingers and toes and even undressed fully to examine each part of him. She grumbled all the while writing neatly onto a vellum. 

“Well?” Gereon asked as he waited patiently. 

“He appears to be doing well visually.” Fiona spoke. “However, visual displays of symptoms is only one measure. Felix, arms out.”

Felix held his arms out and ignored the impulsive defensive twitch to cast back as she performed magic on him. A resonant image of his internal humors was formed. Fiona frowned. 

“This here. His choleric levels are rather low.” Fiona tutted. 

“They have always been low since his childhood.” Gereon sighed. “However we lived in Tevinter, a much warmer climate than Ferelden.”

“And his phlegmatic humor is much too high. The Ferelden landscape is really to his detriment and could be what’s causing the imbalance, making him more prone to sickness.” Fiona stopped casting. “He will need to be kept warm. His curtains are drawn closed for the entire day, correct?”

“Yes they have been as you instructed. The only time they are open are at sunset.”

“Good, best to keep the cold out.” Fiona looked around the room. “Perhaps a brazier near his bed. Or a warming rune. 

“Of course. Is there anything else you believe may help?”

“What has his diet been?” 

“Warm broths and porridges, fruits.” Gereon explained. “Though I am unsure of the method in which they have been prepared or if there was any variation.” 

“Perhaps you could allow me to respond?” Felix interjected as he pulled his robes on. “I am here you know.” 

“Ah… yes of course.” Fiona smiled and looked at him expectantly. 

“I eat porridge, most recently with cinnamon. Hearty vegetable stews. Grapes, mangos, bananas.” Felix recounted each meal. 

“That’s good, adds warmth to your diet. Though I will speak with the kitchens to add more spice if we have it.” Fiona wrote that down as well. 

“I can have my people export the finest spices from Tevinter.” Gereon spoke. 

“That may be wise.” Fiona nodded. 

“Am I well enough to walk about Redcliffe soon?” Felix asked, looking between his father and Fiona. 

“I wish to give it another day. But if no issues arise, I see no reason to prevent your excursion, so long as you dress warmly and return before the sun begins to set.” Fiona surmised. “I will however like to examine you the evening you return.” 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you, enchanter.” Gereon smiled. 

“If that is all?” Fiona asked. 

“One other thing, if you would give my son and I some privacy first?” Gereon indicated Fiona should wait outside. The door to his study closed and he turned to his son. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine, father.” Felix buttoned his robe tight. 

“No...how are you really? I know you wish to go out, but...you’ve been rather distant.” 

“Father...you’ve kept me locked up. Did you think that would be without consequence?” Felix pulled his shoes back on. 

“Fair.” Gereon responded. “And I apologize, but I only care for your health, to finding a solution.” 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I can’t be locked away for the rest of my days if there is no solution. What sort of life is that?” 

“Felix, we talked about this. You cannot think like that. I will find a way to heal you.” He touched his son’s shoulders and drew him into a hug. “By any means necessary.” 

Felix knew his father was serious. Which was precisely the problem. He returned the hug but it was an automatic muted gesture.

“I’ll return to my quarters. I do need my rest.” He left the study and approached his room, only to find his door open. Niris at the end of the hall did not seem perturbed by his open door. So it was someone that was expected. But who would he expect this early? 

Stepping inside, he paused upon catching Paloma at his table. She’d set his meal at the opposite place setting to where his reading and notes had been. She hunched over his papers reading his mother’s book. One finger holding his place, while she turned the pages. Her eyes tracking quickly as she read. Her expression ranging from curious to excitement to confusion before she turned back a page and re-read and the confusion dispersed. 

“That is quite an impressive speed at which you read and comprehend.” He shut the door behind him. 

Paloma yelped, shut the book, and turned to see him. A range of emotions flitted across her face. First guilt, her smile sheepish and brows furrowed until he could detect the moment she recalled their last interaction. A spike of fear as she looked to the shut door and then to him. Her gaze guarded and squinted in apprehension and anger. 

She was remarkably expressive with a wide range of displayed emotions. He wondered what expression she’d might make if he held her hand or kissed her knuckles. Likewise, he wondered what he could say or do to make her blush. 

Felix breathed in, chasing those thoughts away. 

“If you will wait a moment, I’d like to speak with you.” Felix began. “To apologize.” He clarified. 

Paloma crossed her arms, leaning to look at the door behind him and then gave him a pointed look. “I suppose you can do as you wish. Considering you have a captive audience.”

Felix laughed. “I’m not keeping you captive.” However when Paloma didn’t laugh, he realized the severity. “I’m not.” He spoke seriously now. 

“You’re standing between me and the door, the only means of my escape.” Paloma pointed out. “Well the only means of escaping **safely**.”

Felix furrowed his brows. “Is there a method of escape that is unsafe?”

“Oh certainly.” Paloma spoke evenly. “If you, a man, who is not only taller than I but broader and likely physically stronger than I; not even accounting for magic, just pure brawn; could make this very unsafe for me very quickly.”

“So if I wanted to keep you here I have all the means to physically do so. Is that what you’re implying?” Felix shot back. 

“Precisely.” She gave a strained smile. “And I, a woman, who is not only smaller and less physically capable would be helpless to stop it.”

“Well that’s not entirely true.” Felix countered. “You have magic.”

“True. But my original parameters was not including magic. But if we were to add it on to this…” Paloma gestured around them. 

“**Hypothetical** thought experiment where I would attack you.” Felix offered

“Yes...**hypothetically **speaking...” Paloma’s lips twitched. “...I would still lose.”

“Are you certain?” Felix moved to the table to grab the orange slices that were alongside his morning meal. Paloma took a few steps back in response and to keep the distance between them. Unfortunately, it also put her further away from the door. “Though it bruises my pride to admit, my magical ability is barely above a Soporati. I could do no more harm to you magically than you to I.”

“Excuse me, I think that’s poppycock.” Paloma swallowed. 

“Is it now?”

“Yes. You’ve had vastly more time to study magic than I. You being a…” Paloma raised her hands and made a motion he was unfamiliar with with her index and middle fingers on both hands. “...Magister of Tevinter, after all.” Paloma 

“Oh you southerners.” Felix barked a laugh and shook his head. “I’m hardly a Magister.”

“Fine. Magister’s son.” She relented. 

“While true, I did have an education on magical theory and what magic I do have is fairly well controlled. I assure you, I wouldn’t use it against you.” Felix admitted as he walked slowly toward her. “Surely my character can speak for itself?”

“Your character?” Paloma’s brows rose high, stepping back with each of his forward. “Oh...let’s speak of your character. Yesterday where you slammed the door to prevent my escape. Insultingly called me a child.” She counted out with her fingers. “And today, once again preventing a woman - my escape from your **bed chambers**. Who, also had to endure your own father’s insinuation in questioning whether you found me **pleasing**.” 

Felix cringed then. That was quite a lot against his character. 

“Which you did **not **deny.”

“I admit my actions were incorrigible yesterday and were I to deny my father’s insinuation he would most assuredly have sent you away and I-“ Felix halted mid sentence. He covered his mouth to hide his smile as he realized he’d almost told her he liked her company and banter. The tongue lashing he was getting was **not **displeasing. 

“And you?” Paloma questioned. 

Felix laughed and stepped around the table to get closer. She glared and further stepped back. “I rather enjoy our banter. However brief and contentious they have been.”

“Contentious?”

“As I’ve learned you are a polemicist.”

“Oh dear you haven’t seen me truly argue.” Paloma shot back. 

“I look forward to seeing it, then” Felix smiled.

Paloma could not help her lips twitching into a smile, so she pursed them out of spite, but her cheeks belied her emotion. Felix had seen through her failed attempt and was smirking. She released a huff and looked anywhere but at him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you were going to apologize?”

“You’ll accept my apology?” He smirked.

“I haven’t heard it yet.” 

“Must I say it all?”

“Yes. Otherwise it’s an assumed apology. And we’ve made the error of assumption far too much the last two days.”

“That we have.” Felix hummed as Paloma raised an expectant brow. “Paloma,” he called her attention and with a playful smirk lowered to his knees and raised his hands in prayer. 

“What are you doing?!” Paloma squawked in shock. 

Felix ignored her and proceeded. “I apologize for my behavior and words yesterday. It was untoward and rude.”

“Maker!” Her cheeks burned scarlet. She stepped to him to pull him off the floor. She pulled on his hands but true to her assessment he was physically stronger than her and remained rooted. “That’s quite enough of that!”

“Are you sure?” He grinned devilish and teasing. “Because I haven’t yet heard your acceptance of my apology. Let me beg as well.” He took in a breath and began a theatrical display. “Oh Mistress Paloma, I am on bended knees, pleading desperately for your forgiveness!” He even mock sobbed. 

“I forgive you!” Paloma spilled out around half an annoyed groan and restrained giggle.

“Oh truly, Mistress Paloma you are kind.” Felix grasped her hands in turn. She squawked again as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles and peered up at her through his lashes. 

Her protests quieted as her cheeks and neck became a delicious shade of pinkish red. Her bottom lip worried with a flash of teeth. “Damnable magister’s son.” She rushed out and stepped away from him. 

Felix was laughing, shoulders shaking as she raised her nose stubbornly trying to hide her own smile. 

“I truly am sorry.” He added as he stood, and with true sincerity and not a lick of humor. 

“Yes well. I’m sorry as well.” Paloma sniffed. 

“What for?”

“Insulting your character. It wasn’t really your fault your father made that insinuation.” Paloma admitted. “I shouldn’t have held your father’s words against you.”

“Forgiven.” Felix bowed his head. 

“And…” Paloma wobbled her head back and forth with a sigh. “Going through you isn’t the only method of escape.” 

“Sorry?” 

Paloma smirked as she walked toward his windows. “I suppose if I was truly pressed to escape, I could pull the curtains back.” She yanked his drawn curtains, letting the morning light into his room. He would have told her to draw them back quickly but the way the morning sunlight hit her frame gave him pause. She turned and the light caught her eyes and hair just so, and it created a reflection of light and colors. “Open this window and throw myself off from this height.” 

He found he couldn’t quite breathe when there was a flutter in his chest. He nearly stumbled when he took a step forward. 

“Are you alright?” She stepped away from the window toward him. 

Though the light was no longer directly on her she was still radiant, but not with sunlight. Something else. 

“Felix, do you need help? Need me to get your father?” Paloma suggested as she gripped his arm to steady him. 

“No...that’s not necessary.” He swallowed, suddenly very thirsty. “My tea.” 

“Alright.” She stepped away to pour his tea. He followed after her. When she turned to return to his side, she gasped. The tea cup jostled and he grasped her hand to steady her. 

Without breaking eye contact, he drank. He found while looking at her, he could stomach the bitterness of his tea. 

“Thank you.” Felix murmured low. 

Paloma had to crane her neck up to meet his gaze. “You’re welcome.” 

“I…” Felix began but paused to stare at her. 

“Is there anything else you needed?” Paloma stepped backwards away from him. 

He dared not speak his mind, merely shook his head. “No, that will be all.” 

She left again. With his gaze glued to her, he watched the last of her skirt and robe abscond away. Though his curtains were drawn, filling the room with sunlight, it felt that much darker with her absence.

He released a deep regretful sigh. Even if this infatuation was anything more than just a desperate attempt to connect with anyone while captive, he could never be with her. He was on borrowed time as it is. To pursue her, would be to condemn her to sorrow when he passed. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma engages in an argument with Felix.

“I have constructed the sheets of butter as requested.” Keili spoke, pulling Paloma out of her thoughts. 

“Ah, thank you Keili.” Paloma smiled at her as she nodded. The sheets of butter would be for croissants. The Orlesian mages and indeed some of the Tevinters had requested them. And who was Paloma to deny them? No one, she was no one to deny them, especially as an apprentice and especially when the requests came from Fiona. 

“Please put them in the ice closet for now, as I’ll need to laminate the dough after supper.”

For supper, or lunch, today was an assortment of fish and eel, courtesy of Lake Calenhad. Paloma eyed the fish as it sizzled in the pan. Clemence was taking point as lead chef today while Paloma handled the side dishes. She’d finished the garlic mashed turnips and peppers for lunch. Now she sat not quite peeling, but removing the eyes and less appetizing skin portions of a box of red potatoes for dinner. They were going to roast salmon, mussels, eels, potatoes, brussels sprouts, and pomegranate. Because foods being in season meant absolutely nothing to mage farmers in the Imperium, and thus meant nothing to those in Redcliffe.

Paloma eyed the pomegranate that Clemence worked to remove the seeds into a bowl. He was efficient, quick, and entirely too fast for Paloma to enjoy the rich color and scent of the fruit from where she was. Let alone to taste it. She swallowed and whined from her spot.

“Does something trouble you?” Clemence asked.

“No…” Paloma puffed her cheeks out and looked away. 

Clemence returned back to removing seeds. They had to remove enough to garnish the meal. 

Another few moments of silence as he scored more fruit and Paloma whined again watching as the delicious seeds were unloaded. 

Clemence paused, set the fruit down and grabbed a handful. He walked toward to Paloma and held out his palm. “Would you taste these to ensure their sharp sourness?” 

Paloma grinned and opened her mouth, as her hands were a little preoccupied. Her entire body wiggled excitedly as he plopped a few morsels into her mouth. She moaned and leaned back as she ate them. 

“Maker they’re so good.”

“I trust they are adequate to garnish the salmon?”

“Yes!” 

Clemence returned to preparing the meals for plating. Supper was whisked off quick, allowing for those on kitchen duties to take a moment to enjoy their meager meals. 

“Are there any poms left over?” Paloma asked while she lounged in the garden beside Clemence. It felt like rain was near but she’d enjoy the sun while they had it. 

“I saved a box.” 

“Think we have enough for two cups of juice?” 

“If you magically apply pressure, perhaps.” Clemence looked up from his book at her. Her eyes were closed as the sun was directly on them. Only a few clouds disturbed the rays. The exposed skin of her upper chest and arms prickled and she shivered. 

“Hmm, you’ll have to teach me that.” 

“What will you create with them?” 

“Pomegranate molasses.” Her teeth clattered against each other. 

“Do you require a cloak?” Clemence closed his book, intending on standing to retrieve one.

“No no. I’m good.” 

“You are shivering. It would be unwise to remain cold. You could become ill.” Clemence rose. 

“I don’t want a cloak, Clemence. I just want to bathe in the sun. It feels nice.” She stretched her arms above her head and twisted on the blanket they sat on. 

“Hmm.” Clemence disapproved. 

“Ugh, okay fine.” Paloma sat up and took a position to cast a spell. “How do you cast the warming ward again?” 

With a sigh, Clemence sat on his knees opposite her and performed the hand movement for her to mirror. 

“So I, twirl my finger too and write the sigil in the air for circulating right?” 

“Yes, otherwise the plant life near here will dry out and perish. You need only raise the temperature to a comfortable level, nothing more.” He sat back and watched as she performed the spell. She did as instructed but faltered. 

“Wait…” She cut the sigil in the air, clearing the spell. “Let me try again.” When she failed again, he rose and sat behind her and directed her in the proper hand movements. 

When her fingers faltered, he placed his over hers and directed them back on course. The feel of the fade tear she created to cast magic swept over him. As the sweet scent of embrium and lavender hit him, a tightness formed in his chest that he could not explain but left him breathless. Yet all too quickly, it faded. 

“Got it!” Paloma smiled as the ward sigil flashed mid air. The air warming but subtly with the breeze. Clemence sat back as Paloma beamed at him. “Thanks!” She raised her chin, allowing the warming air and sun to hit her. She swept her hair into a bun. His gaze fell on the expanse of her neck. 

Embrium and lavender were the scent of her soaps. The same as he smelled on her neck. Such calming qualities and yet, he’d been made breathless. He rubbed at the point of tightness in his chest, yet there was nothing. Only a phantom of where it had happened. 

* * *

“You know what sucks about having a natural inferno attunement?” Paloma grumbled as she slammed the slab of dough wrapped around butter.

“Uhhh.” Banon looked up from the fruit arrangement. “Difficult to cool in the summer?” 

Paloma opened her mouth, then nodded. “Okay yeah, there is that. But also.” She pointed at the ruined blob of dough and butter. “It means I can’t lose focus while laminating dough for croissants!” 

Banon sputtered around a laugh. “What did you do?” 

“I got lost in thought and the next thing I knew...the butter was melted and leaking through.” She sighed. 

“Maker, well, I suppose we can use this for something else then?” He grabbed the mess of dough and reshaped it until it was all homogeneous 

“Just turn it into bread or something.” Paloma sighed as she worked the next dough. She slapped it with her rolling pin until it was flattened and then rolled it out. She folded it and did the same, being sure to cast a cooling spell every so often. 

“You should cast it on the stone.” 

“It’ll be uneven. I need it distributed evenly.” She shaped the dough, wrapped it and stuck it back in the larder before grabbing the next. She had a total of ten of these to work. 

“Perhaps Clemence can enchant the stone?” Banon suggested as he set the final fruit arrangement, casting a frost ward for preservation. 

“Do you see any raw lyrium anywhere?” Paloma placed both hands on her hips. 

“No…” Banon admitted. “Pity really.” 

“Yeah...enchanted cooling stone though…” Paloma lifted the dough and eyed the stone counter. “That could work…” She slotted the idea away for another day. 

Clemence entered the kitchen with a bundle of dead quails. Or mostly dead quails. There was one still twitching. Clemence grabbed it and slammed it against the wall, where it stilled. Those were for their meal, while the banquet got seafood. 

“Urgh.” Paloma wasn’t going to question it. It was one of the many things she’s become accustomed to. Actually seeing the animals alive and then killed, plucked, skinned, cut, and then cooked for the food on her plate. Clemence knew she didn’t have the stomach for killing the things and would sooner turn to a vegetarian diet than harm them herself. But so long as she looked the other way when he prepped them, she could eat.

She gulped. Leafy and root vegetables for dinner tonight for her. She swallowed and went back to working the dough. Eventually, with extreme concentration she got the dough rolled out, cut, and lightly coated in an egg wash. Ready to begin baking early tomorrow after a night of proofing. 

Dinner was served at about this time, so she turned to the pomegranates and cast the pressure ward to divest them of their juice. She put it in a pot on the stove with sugar, lemon juice, and to give it some kick some pepper flakes. Paloma boiled until a thick consistency and stored it in a jar. She put just enough for a serving and set it on the serving tray, just as Clemence returned to the kitchen from helping set up the Banquet. Something special was happening today, so they needed to ensure it was perfect. 

“Banon has taken his meal in the mess hall tonight.” Clemence announced. 

“Oh pity.” Paloma shrugged. “I wonder what secrets he’ll uncover there.” Paloma joked with a smile. “He does realize he’s not a very good spy, right?” 

“Hmm.” Clemence nodded, setting one serving of quail on the tray she was setting. “This is for the Magister’s son?” 

“Yeap.” 

“Were you not aggravated with him yesterday?”

“I was.” Paloma nodded with a pop as she prepared Felix’s tea. 

“I can see the aggravation has dispersed.” 

“Eh, I don’t hold a grudge long. Plus…” She smirked. “He did apologize.” 

“That is good.” Clemence set a bowl of roasted brussel sprouts and potatoes down. He meant to begin garnishing with a few pomegranate seeds, but Paloma yanked the bowl and dumped it in a pan with a few drops of her syrup, coating them before serving them back on the bowl. 

“Alright, done. Please set my plate up while I take this up?” Paloma asked as she raised the tray. 

“Of course.” Clemence began serving two more plates, prepared the same way. 

“Oh, can we eat under the stars tonight. I have questions about the constellations.” 

Clemence nodded, watching her go again before he set to work.

There was no slave waiting this time in the hallway as Paloma approached Felix’s chambers. Instead she found the door cracked open. 

“I’ll also need you to meet me in the village tomorrow, Niris. Just before sunset. I’m sure someone has slate that they’ll be willing to part with for a few coin. I’ll need you to carry it in.” Felix was instructing the slave Niris. 

“Yes, Young Master Felix.” The slave nodded with her head bowed. 

Paloma knocked on the door, calling Felix’s attention to her. He smiled and gestured her in. 

“That will be all.” He told Niris, who bowed, and exitted. She passed by Paloma, meeting her gaze once before closing the door. 

“You’re going into the village tomorrow?” Paloma asked as she crossed toward Felix’s table. 

“Yes. My father is finally allowing me a respite as captive to this dark room.” He admitted and looked over the spread of food. “Hmm…” he dipped his finger in the small serving bowl of pomegranate molasses and tasted it.

“Captive? And here I thought you just liked the dark.” Paloma joked as she finished setting his table. 

“Hmm no. What is this?” He dipped his finger in again. 

“Pomegranate molasses!” She beamed. “I had a feeling this might be made in Tevinter. We just got a shipment of all sorts of Nocenic fruits and vegetables.” 

“That would be due to my father...you made this?” Felix dipped his finger in again, taking a larger dollop and sucking it off. 

“Careful, that’s for you to drizzle on the quail.” Paloma warned. “I’d have to get more if you eat it all.”

“I had no idea anyone south of the Minanter River knew how to make this.” Felix moaned around another taste. “Oh! You put red pepper in it.” He gasped.

“Is...that a good thing?” Paloma was unsure now. 

“This was a staple in my childhood with every supper.” Felix drizzled it on the quail with a warm smile. 

“Well I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it?” Felix laughed. “I love it. Maker, this…” He sat down at the table. “Ah this brings up old memories.” 

“Hopefully good ones?” Paloma asked. 

“Yes.” Felix leaned back, recalling the slaves bringing him his meals. There had been a slave who always gave him an extra serving of molasses with pepper on special occasions. The sweet and spicy kick was his favorite. He couldn’t quite remember that slave’s name. Perhaps Niris would know. 

“I’m pleased you have good memories associated then.” Paloma nodded. He could tell she was preparing to leave, but he wanted to keep her for just a few moments longer. Usually her visits were so brief.

”You know pomegranates are an important fruit in Tevinter. They’re almost sacred in some circles.” He began, dangling a bit of information. He had a feeling she liked to learn, given how she readily and openly read his mother’s book. 

“Oh?” Paloma perked up. “How so?” 

“According to the old religions in Ancient Tevinter lore, I’ll want to say as early as the 5th perhaps 6th century - I’d have to check my sources. It’s believed that the Old God Razikale created them for her high priestess. Who upon eating the pomegranate was raised to sainthood and became her bride.” He explained. 

“Really? Huh…” Paloma tilted her head with a smirk. “Sounds familiar…”

“There are Imperium theorist who say this is the origin for the mythos of Andraste as the Bride to the Maker.” He added.

“There are Tevinter scholars who doubt Andraste existed?” Paloma squinted. 

“There are Tevinter scholars who believe Andraste existed, just not when the Chantry believe she did and not by that name. The historical documents surrounding the time of Andraste’s war against Tevinter is rather vague. The only document with excess detail being that of the Chant of Light.” 

“Which for all we know could very well be Orlesian propaganda.” Paloma mused dismissively, then paused in horror. “Not to say that it is!”

Felix laughed behind his mouth. “No no. A valid point among many scholarly circles.” 

“I thought I might have offended you.” She let out a breath. 

“Nay.” He smirked. “But to your point, scholars have long since theorized that Emperor Drakon used existing lore to prop up a political stronghold that became what we now know as the Southern Chantry. All with the glorified false martyrdom of a long dead Alamarri War chieftain as the figurehead for his political ideology, while claiming Divine Providence in her supposed connection to the Maker.”

Paloma snorted. 

“What?” Felix asked. 

“Not even going into the controversy of whether she was a mage or not.” Paloma added. Felix bit his lip. “Because I’m sorry if someone today said they were speaking to the Maker, the Chantry would one-hundred percent hang them for demon possession, not ascend them to sainthood.” 

“That is what many scholars’ points are.” Felix clapped with a grin. “The Chantry used it to vilify the Tevinter Imperium whilst furthering the political goals of the budding Orlesian nation, and even to this day continues to use Andrastianism as a tool. All the while ignoring the hypocrisy of their origin. The large amounts of the Andrastian mythology that can be traced back to the Imperium origin cannot simply be ignored without conscious negligence.”

“Plus Razikale was just one example. For instance, there is a White Divine who is rumored to have never spoken a word but sung only the chant her entire life. She’s heralded as a Patron of the Maker’s Silence.” Felix raised his brows. “Please tell me you know who that sounds like?”

“That sounds similar to the old god Dumat.”

“Precisely!” Felix slapped the table. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a Southern who agreed on this.” 

“Of course I’d agreed. There’s enough evidence even in the Ferelden lands that even though the Orlesian occupation has been pushed back and Ferelden Independence all but secured. The Orlesian Chantry and Orlesian nobility still have much influence here. You can still see relics of old Alamarri and Avvar structures of worship, at least those that weren’t immediately bastardized into figures from Chantric lore.” Paloma mentioned. 

“Really? I may have to pick up a few books on Ferelden lore after all.” 

“Might I suggest you look into Tyrdda Bright-Axe then?” 

“Tyrdda?” Felix pulled his journal open and quickly wrote the name down. 

“She was an Avvar Mother, but you might notice quite a few similarities in her Saga that suggest the Avvar and Alamarri also based their beliefs on something older, just as surely as the Southern Chantry and Tevinter did.” Paloma added. “I think I can remember a few stanzas…” 

Felix blinked and looked up at her. “My apologies but did you say Tevinter?”

“Well yes. Orlais isn’t the only nation to have used religious propaganda to further their political goal. How else did Tevinter once stretch the continent?” 

“I beg your pardon, early Tevinter did no such thing” 

“You can’t seriously be that naive?” 

“Naive?” Felix narrowed his gaze. 

“That Tevinter is just as guilty of basing their own religious and political ideologies from the relics of an even more ancient culture.” Paloma huffed. 

“What…?” Felix laughed, but he was dishumored to see she was serious. “What culture would that be?”

“Arlathan of course.” She responded. 

Felix sputtered and gave a bark of a laugh. “You can not be serious.” 

“I am. Elvhenan stretched across all of Thedas as surely as Tevinter did. And when Tevinter came at their collapse, they might have made away like bandits with their culture. Repurposing their own figures. Why its just as you said, Razikale raising one of their priestesses to sainthood being the basis for the mythos of Andraste, the same can be said of Razikale with the Dalish’s own lore on how Andruil ascended her lover Ghilan'nain to Creatorhood.” 

“Maker, you’re completely serious.” Felix gaped at her. “Upon what basis are you making this foundless comparison. Tevinter didn’t steal Dalish lore.” 

“You misunderstand. I am not saying they stole from Dalish Lore. Rather, both the Dalish and Tevinter took from the same source and that there were similarities, with a difference in execution.” 

“Well that’s preposterous!” 

“Is it?” 

“Tevinter beliefs came down with them from the Neromenian tribes as they traveled across the Donnarks. They didn’t steal their culture and religion, merely adapted to the land.” 

“Oooh, have I hit a sore-spot? That because I am accusing your country and culture of thievery, it’s suddenly a ludicrous notion. My the hypocrisy, Magister Felix. You can so easily accept Andrastians stealing from your own culture, but not see the wrongs the Imperium committed in kind.” She taunted.

“I can fully see the wrongs my forefathers in the Imperium did. But culture. Do not be so absurd!” He roared with a searing gaze.

Paloma took several steps back until her back hit the wall. 

Felix’s breath came in heavy as he looked at her, taking in her wide fearful eyes and hunched shoulders. “I can see however…” He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “We will simply disagree on this matter.” 

“Yes…” Paloma whispered. 

“I apologize for yelling.” He added. “I...I am well aware of the horrors my country has committed. Almost...intimately so.” He sighed. “Please don’t let this disagreement color your impression of me.” 

“The disagreement would not color that, but your immediate acrimony would.” Paloma muttered as she slid against the wall. 

“It will not happen again.” Felix pledged. 

“See that it doesn’t.” Paloma muttered as she slipped out the door and closed it. She released a breath and stepped away on shaky legs as Magister Gereon Alexius came around the corner. Paloma didn’t wait, rushing down the hall to the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR PROPS TO LONELY for help on the Felix/Paloma Banter
> 
> BTW the whole Razikale rising one of her priestesses is not canon. Just an extrapolation of similarities between mythos in real life that could be applied to Thedas.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix finally gets his day out and receives confirmation from Dorian. Paloma deals with the repercussion of her argument with Felix.

Felix woke at week’s end with a determination that made him burst from his sleep before his usual time. Each day that passed got him closer to a momentary chance at freedom. For a day anyway. He felt better and rejuvenated as he washed his face. He almost called to have a bath drawn, but that would eat into his time.

He planned to visit the Chantry, take a long walk along the lake and contact Dorian. Maybe even visit Old Redcliffe. He’d heard the old ruins survived the Fifth Blight. He’d been here for weeks and he only got a glimpse of them as he entered the village and was quickly ushered into the castle. But now, he would get to see it. Even if it meant having a shadow. 

He was mid wiping his chest down when a knock came at the door. It was very early. 

“Come in.” He called, confused at who would be visiting this early. Likely his father coming to check on him, as he expected him to before he set out. 

The door opened and he caught sight of a flash of silver hair. He yelped, drawing back with only his washcloth. 

“Oh!” Paloma caught sight of him as he quickly held the cloth to his bits and dashed behind the vanity divider. 

“I thought you were my father!” He rushed out in one breath. 

“My apologies!” Paloma’s voice shook with unrestrained laughter. 

“Maker’s breath.” He covered his face. “You shouldn’t have come.” He admonished. 

“I thought as you were likely heading out early today, I would deliver your meal and tea early.” She offered between laugh. “I’ll just leave the tray on your bed.” 

“Yes…that…thank you.” He took a breath to calm himself. She meant well in her visit, no need to yell at her. Though given their argument the night prior, he wished to speak with her again. “I didn’t mean to yell, again. Maker I keep yelling at you. I swear this is not a usual occurrence.”

Paloma’s responding giggle at least let him know last night’s argument did not affect their rapport. 

“Do have fun.” She offered and there was a pause. “Um, I’ve covered my eyes but there was something else.” 

Felix looked around the divider to see her standing beside the door. One hand clasped tight over her eyes, the other clasping an oil slicked cloak. 

“It’s raining?” 

“Not yet. Feels like the light mist will turn into something more. 

He swore. If it may rain, his father may use it as a reason to keep him in. He better be quick to leave. 

“I’ll-uh...I’ll put it on the table.” The table, that was just beside him. He peered around to watch her fumble across, finding she had already begun moving and was about to trip into his boots. Sadly in his haste, he’d left his robes on his bed. With heat crawling up his neck, he stepped out to stop her, grasping her hand. 

“Keep your eyes closed.” He plead, cheeks emblazoned in heat as he guided Paloma to turn around and pushed her toward the door. “Thank you, again.”

“You’re very welcome.” Her shoulders shook and he could hear the laughter in her voice. She was just out the door, when she turned. “Oh!” And then remembered he was naked, and flung back around and right into the edge between the door and wall. 

“Maker are you alright?” Felix gasped and steadied her. 

“Yes!” She hissed. Between her bared teeth and tightly clenched eyes, Felix had to giggle himself as she still refused to look. 

“I was just going to ask if you will be grabbing supper at the tavern, and if I should keep evening meal on a hot plate until you return?” She breathed out, this time resting her head on the door. 

“Yes, and I would appreciate it if you do.” Felix sighed, keeping the door as a shield between them. 

“Alright. Again…sorry. And again…have fun.” She slipped away and he shut the door. It was silent, until he heard a tiny squeak of a giggle from behind the door. 

He opened the door before she could walk away. “Paloma.” 

She kept her gaze away from him. “Yes?” A smile evident to her tone. 

“I trust you aren’t still angry with me from last night?” 

“I wasn’t angry to begin with.” Her answer was serious. “And especially not now.” She joked around a giggle. “After having seen you as bare as the day you were born!” She laughed.

“Maker’s breath.” He groaned. “Tell no one what you saw.”

“Oh I don’t know…that birthmark in the shape of Rivain will cause quite a ruckus.” She turned to look at him quickly with a wicked teasing smile before she dashed off. 

“Paloma!” He yelled, but he could not pursue her and her responding cackle. 

He released a breathy groan as he shut the door. 

He went back to washing, this time behind the vanity divider. It wasn’t until he was dressing did he realize he hadn’t stopped smiling. He wasn’t sure if it was the encounter or the prospect of going out, but he was not one to doubt a good mood. 

After he ate the spread Paloma had brought, he sent the plate and tray down with Niris.

With the oilslick cloak in hand, he stepped out of his room to a mutely lit corridor. Niris’s brother, Idris was waiting for him outside the castle. He was small but quick and would easily blend in with that of the normal Redcliffe villagers. 

Felix took his first step outside without his father beside him, in a month. The air was crisp and cold, but most importantly it was fresh. 

The Ferelden winter hit his chest but it was a welcome coldness. He walked slowly at first, but once across the thoroughfare from the castle he picked up the pace until he was in the village proper. There were carriages and carts coming and leaving the castle with all sorts of shipments. He spied the lake also had boats with their own shipments being dropped off. 

He greeted a few of the villagers, but most gave him a suspicious eye. To be expected, given his father’s invasion of the castle. 

So be it. That wasn’t what his trip to the village was about. No, it was for one major thing. 

He set his sight on the Redcliffe’s Chantry. He climbed the stairs and was about to enter, when he remembered he had a shadow. “Idris.” He turned to him. 

“Yes, master?” 

“Remain here and guard the door. I need a moment of solitude to pay my respects to my mother.” Felix dared him to challenge him but the slave took one look around before nodding and stationed himself at the door. 

Felix walked into the Chantry. There was a sister and a mother whispering to one side. The Mother looked his way.

“Is there something I can assist you with, Magister?” 

“No thank you, I come only to light a candle.” He bowed his head respectfully whilst ignoring the title. He did not feel like correcting them. Instead he crossed through the pews to the large statue of Andraste in a bowl of fire. At her feet were rows upon rows of lighted candles. He lit one, as he said it would, sending a silent prayer to his mother. 

He hadn’t been lying to Idris about paying his respects. But that wasn’t what motivated him to come to the Chantry. He slipped his hand under the table, his finger traced a sigil into the wood besides a lump that was stuck to it. First a sigil to undo fire resistance, then one of water resistance, and finally an unsticking glyph. The combination unlocked and unstuck the lump. He caught it and tucked it into his robes, hidden away from prying eyes. 

He gave another smile to the attending Mother. She gave him a knowing one in return as he sat in the confessional.

He unwrapped the lump, eyeing the sending crystal. With one swipe across the surface, a series of numbers in an equation came through. It was a fairly simple equation for anyone well versed in the cross fields of magical theory and gravitational time theory. As it was, there were exactly three people in all of the Thedas who would understand the formula. Maybe four, if the reports he glanced at from his father’s study about the Still Ruins in the Western Approach were true. The problem with the equation was, it wasn’t being used to actually learn anything but rather to hide something. It was a cypher, one that only he and Dorian knew how to work out. 

Working out the equation and then translating from numerals to characters of their conlang.

> Checked lab. You were right. V present. 1 Orbit. 

So it was as he feared. His father’s new friends weren’t just extremely vocal Tevinter supremacist. They were part of the terrorist group, the Venatori. As was his father. 

* * *

Paloma returned to the kitchen with a giggle, barely containing herself.

“You are in good spirits.” Clemence turned to her. “Is there an occasion for it?” 

Paloma looked at his deadpan and then burst into giggles even more. Clemence wouldn’t find walking in on someone naked funny. It was borderline toilet humor. 

Banon however would find it funny and he leant forward on the counter. “Care to share?” 

She opened her mouth just as Grand Enchanter Fiona entered the kitchen. 

“Helisma, you will replace Paloma in the kitchens.” Fiona directed to the tranquil woman, who stepped in. “Paloma, please come with me.” 

All mirth and humor drained from Paloma as she sent Clemence a panicked look. 

“Grand Enchanter, is there an issue with Apprentice Paloma’s performance?” Clemence stepped up, holding a hand to still Paloma’s departure. “If there was an error, then it should reflect on me as I am her mentor on all things alchemical and culinary. I should bear the brunt of any punishments or reassignment.” 

“Clemence, it’s fine. It has nothing to do with either. She will be back tomorrow, but for the rest of today I require her presence.” Fiona assured and gestured Paloma follow her. There was no room to fight her on this so Paloma followed. Fiona was quick and purposeful in her steps as she guided Paloma up a flight to the second floor and to the library. Inside she paused outside a set of doors. 

Fiona had Paloma meet her gaze with a tap of her chin. 

“As I understand, you have taken over Linnea’s assigned tasks of delivering Felix’s morning and supper meals, when he requires it.” Fiona began. “A task that should never have fallen to you, but I will speak to Linnea on that.” 

“Yes.” Paloma swallowed. 

“Fortunately, Felix has found you…agreeable and there has been no issue and no complaints.” Fiona added. 

“But?” 

“Felix is in a delicate state medically. You are aware he was blighted and has been suffering from the wasting illness the last few years.” 

“I am.” Paloma added softly. 

“Magister Gereon Alexius believes we can forestall the inevitable end, maybe even find a cure. It is the reason he is in Ferelden and is my only leverage to negotiating on behalf of the rebel mages. Especially with the news that the Templars blame us for the Breach.” Fiona explained. “We need this alliance. And such, I need to do everything I can to save Felix.” She leveled Paloma with a look, to see if she was following as she’d gone silent. “So there can be no over-excitement, no agitation, and especially no angering. Such strong emotions could undo the efforts of every healer he's seen, my own included.” Fiona waited. 

“Oh.” Paloma chewed her lip. 

“Yes. Good you understand the severity.” Fiona took a breath. “I understand there was a disagreement?” 

“We were discussing politics…culture and…I may have suggested Ancient Tevinter stole from Ancient Arlathan…” Paloma winced. 

“Ah…” Fiona shook her head. “Tevinters have such stubborn pride in their culture, however stolen it may be.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not as sorry as you will be.” 

“What does that mean?”

“If the disagreement had stayed between you two, I would have simply adjusted my methods to account, but…”

“Gereon saw me leaving last night.” Paloma grimaced. 

“Yes, just after he heard his son shouting.” 

“He has agreed to refrain from dismissing you from Redcliffe, as you would not do well in the Hinterlands alone. But...there must be a punishment.” 

“What sort of punishment?” Paloma shivered in fear, looking at the doors they stood beside and then Fiona. “Lashings?”

“Nothing so severe as that.” Fiona assured but pushed the doors open and they walked in. Gereon Alexus stood by the windows. Niris the slave was also present, her gaze downcast. 

“As indentured servants to the imperium, not all of you will be under my household. Indeed many of you will be under the houses of the compatriots I have accompanying me.” He turned to face them. “They will not be as kind as I am today in proper decorum and appropriate agreeable behaviour to your superiors.”

“Yes, Magister.” Paloma muttered. 

“I take it that Fiona has explained the issue?” He waited until Paloma nodded. “Good, we can make this quick. Place your hands on the desk.” Gereon instructed pointing to the desk. When Paloma did as asked with her eyes closed, he hummed, pleased. “Ten should do it, Niris.” He called to the slave who stepped up to Paloma’s right and pulled a long stick out. 

“As she is an apprentice, and under my tutelage. It should be only fair that I share a portion of her punishment.” Fiona interrupted to speak. 

Gereon stared at Fiona before taking a deep breath. “Fine. Five for each of them. Niris, proceed.”

Paloma gaped at Fiona for doing that as she placed her own aged hands on the desk. “It will be alright.” She assured, and then the first thwack came. Paloma jolted from the pain, yanking her hands back. 

“Put your hands on the desk.” Gereon leveled her with a glare. 

Fiona eyed her. She’d taken the thwack with no reaction. Her knuckles and fingers only lightly pinked from the hit. “It’s alright.” 

Paloma set them back, shaking. 

“Good, begin again.” Gereon stated. 

She shut her eyes, concentrating on keeping her hands flat and body still. 

When it was done, she dared not move her hands. They were split and bleeding. 

“Here, give me your hands.” Fiona had healed her own hands entirely. Only trace amounts of blood remained to indicate she’d been injured.

“Ah-ah,” Gereon tutted and pointed at Fiona. “You’re not to heal her. She is an apprentice, therefore she must learn to heal her own injuries.” 

“Of course.” Fiona sent Paloma an apologetic look. “Return to your bed quarters. I will be by shortly.”

Paloma gulped but nodded as she left the room. Her hands were bleeding still, so she tucked them into her apron pockets to open each door. The brush of fabric against the slits was a pain of their own. She made her way to the east stairs and out to the servants quarters and into the women’s side. There was no one else there, everyone being assigned a daily position in the castle. Paloma grabbed the bucket, kicking toward the water pump at the end of the shared hall with the men’s side. She pumped water into it and dragged it back to the room with her feet. 

Sitting on her bed, she eyed the water. This part was going to hurt. 

She shoved her hands into the cold water and screamed as she let go of a sliver of her magical restraint. The inferno inside her heating at her hands and bringing the water to a simmer and thus disinfecting the slits. She yanked her hands out and sobbed at the residual heat and steam. 

With shaking hands, she opened the medical box beside her bed and pulled at the roll of bandages. It took only a small helping of poultice to cover her hand, but far more bandages to wrap each finger. 

She was putting away the bandages when Fiona entered the room who shook her head at the sight of the bandages. She dropped a book on her bed. 

“When we settle in Tevinter, I am personally going to teach you healing magics.” She tutted and held her hand out. “I may have been instructed to not heal them, but he never said I could do nothing about increasing the effectiveness of your poultice.” She smirked. 

Paloma laughed and sighed when the cooling poultice tingled beneath each bandaged. “Thank you, Grand Enchanter.” 

“It is no worry.” She brushed Paloma’s hair back. “Now, spend the rest of today resting. You’ll be back in the kitchens tomorrow.” 

“Alright.” Paloma lay down on the bed and then sat up. “Um, Grand Enchanter…”

“Yes?” 

“Felix will be taking his evening meal in the castle, but might not return until after dark. He asked his meal be kept warm. Can you ensure Clemence does that?” Paloma informed. 

“Might not return-” Fiona’s lips pressed tight. The nerve of that boy going against her explicit instructions. “Of course, anything else?” 

“No.” Paloma smiled. 

“I’ll have Helisma bring you your meals. Rest easy. Perchance even read a book on healing.” Fiona made a jab before leaving. 

Paloma puffed out a breath of air and laid down with the book on healing Fiona had left behind. It started like any old textbook. Talking about natural attunements and how each mage’s attunement affected how they performed magic. You could change it by changing the attunement on the weapon used, but largely your style and schools were based on your born attunement. Paloma rolled her eyes and shoved the book aside. 

“Attunements this and attunements that. UGH” She screamed into the room. There was no one around anyway. 

Instead, she pulled her journal out and flipped to the back pages where she’d been writing something different and unrelated to her research on the blight. It was pages and pages of lyrics, with hand crafted sigils for each song. 

The silence of the circles had nearly been the end of her. Until Zither visited the White Spire exactly once. 

She’d never performed any of these, but well, she could practice it now. 

Much more entertaining than healing magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Paloma boiled her hands. But recall her entry to Thedas involved her sustaining second and third degree burns when everything else around her became ash. She can stand the heat. Still hurts though.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix arrives late back to the Castle. Clemence reveals some good news to Paloma.

Felix returned that evening just after sunset. Yes, he was supposed to return before sunset but getting all the things he needed and then getting lost in thought in Old Redcliffe, enjoying the scenery and marveling at the red clay, and then paying a man to part with his slateboard. It took a bit of time. So he was sneaking back into the castle through the servant’s entrance. 

He could have come through as normal and suffered no consequence. But...was it horrible of him if he thought he might catch a glimpse of Paloma? He had a bundle of flowers in his pocket.

He’d seen them growing in Old Redcliffe. Marvellous little white flowers with red centers. They were absolutely stunning to have bloomed in the midst of winter. Their coloring and vibrancy, standing out against the dead wood and lingering grass. They reminded him of her. Amidst the terrible circumstance surrounding him, she showed up vibrant and blooming with her smile. 

He frowned. Felix knows he really shouldn’t be pursuing this but there was a high chance she wouldn’t even reciprocate anyway. No woman wants an ill blighted lover. Better this remain as a - what did the Orlesians call it - la splendeur des coeurs perdus, at least on his part. 

He slipped into the kitchens by the woodshed and paused as he took it in. It was warmer than he thought and also empty. No one was in. There were trays of cleaned dishes yet to be put away. 

“Hello?” He called softly. He supposed Paloma had already taken her meal, but expected - no hoped she would linger to give him his meal. Speaking of, his stomach grumbled. He looked around the kitchen and did find a tray with a towel covering it. He pulled it off and saw what he assumed was his dinner. He pulled it off the tray and sipped at it. It was a light stew with flatbread and greens. He dipped the flatbread into the stew and took a bite and began eating. 

Halfway through the meal the door opened to the kitchen and he stopped as a Tranquil came in. 

“Ah...hello.” He waved around a swallow. The tranquil gave him a long stare and then looked at the tray. 

“That was the meal for the magister’s son.” The tranquil spoke.

“That would be me.” Felix smiled. 

“My apologies, Magister Felix.” The tranquil stepped fully in placing a basket full of cheeses on the central stone table. “If I had known you would return so close to sunset, I would not have left my station.” 

“Perfectly alright.” Felix brushed it off. It was he who came after when he was supposed to. “Has Paloma already retired?” He asked. 

“Yes. She has retired. Did you require her assistance? I can retrieve her.” The tranquil spoke. 

“Ah no, no. If she’s retired I’d rather not disturb her slumber. But…” Felix pulled the flowers from his pocket. “Can you be certain she receives these?” He held them out. 

The tranquil stared at the flowers hard and long. 

“Excuse me, tranquil?” Felix snapped. 

“My apologies but where you find those flowers?” The tranquil did not look away, but stepped to the side grabbing a glass jar that he filled with water. 

“In old Redcliffe? Near, I believe, the old general store. I’m actually quite surprised they were growing, the soil was absolutely drenched…” Felix explained and the Tranquil’s eyes grew wide. “Is there something wrong?” 

“Nay. I will ensure Paloma receives these. She will be most pleased.” The Tranquil set the flowers into the jar and kept them in the center of the stone tablet. 

“Oh!” Felix perked up. “Are these her favorites?”

“Favorite?” The tranquil looked at him. 

Felix squinted. Was that confusion he detected? “You know preferred flower. Whether for aesthetic or smell.” 

“Ah. I see.” The tranquil nodded. “Nay, she is interested in these flowers for their medicinal properties.” The tranquil responded. 

It was quiet and Felix watched him as he stared long at the flowers, again. 

“Well, what is her favorite flower? Do you know?” 

The tranquil looked up. His mouth opened but he paused. He looked at Felix an uncomfortably long time before he shook his head. “I am not aware of such information.” 

“Right.” 

“Felix Alexius!” Fiona appeared at the open doorway into the corridor. 

Felix cringed, turning to the Grand Enchanter. 

“I said return **before** sunset and it is an hour past sunset.” Her tone took on a mothering quality, as though he’d been caught with his fingers in the molasses jar. 

“I was caught up arranging-”

“Do not feed me your excuses, young man.” She interrupted him and looked past him at the stone table. “I see you’ve eaten. Good, then I can begin my examination. Oh, and Clemence.” She addressed the tranquil. “Thank you for your hard work today. Be sure to clean that up.” 

“It was no trouble, Grand Enchanter.” Clemence bowed his head. 

“Now you!” Fiona pointed a finger at Felix and then at the stairs. “If you didn’t overexert yourself, I may consider not informing your father of your late arrival.” She threatened. 

“You will?” Felix asked over his shoulder. 

“**IF** you didn’t overexert yourself.” Fiona followed. 

Clemence was left behind in their silence, yet he continued to look at the flowers Felix had plucked for Paloma. Andraste’s Grace. 

After putting all the cleaned dishes and trays away, he grabbed one single flower from the jar and visited the garden shed. There under the glowstone was their small greenhouse experiment. They had at least another week before expected bloom time. But that isn’t what he was there for. 

He checked the levels of waterlogging, something he had done contrary to his advice to Paloma. He trusted her intuition, even if logically it did not make sense. There was no weeds unlike their prior experiments in the circles. He pulled the glowstone closer and eyed the water soil, searching for a speck of green, anything. 

There. Climbing up the deadwood was a speck of green growing despite the white fuzzy fungus. 

He looked at the flower stem where small traces of the same white fuzzy fungus remained but did not eat into the flower.

Paloma had been right. 

* * *

Paloma woke up in the middle of the night to her name being breathed into her ear and a body hovering over her. She stiffened and peered up at the familiar figure of Clemence who pressed a finger to his lips. 

“Clemence?” Her voice cracked. “What?” 

“Dress and follow me.” He spoke lowly and held her dressing robe to put over her gown. He moved quickly out of the door and down the hall, pausing only to wait for Paloma.

Paloma gaped but did put her robe on. She noted everyone else was still asleep. With her slippers on she followed Clemence. 

“Clemence, where are we going?” She half whispered and half yawned at him. 

He didn’t respond. But she followed him anyway, slowly recognizing the route and picking up the pace while tying her robe closer. It was freezing. 

He held the door open to the garden shed and closed it behind them. 

“Clemence, what is it? Why are we here?” 

“Look.” He spoke evenly and pointed at their little greenhouse. She sighed and walked over. 

“Why is it so wet?” 

“I had decided to do as you suggested and waterlogged the soil to prevent weed growth.” He spoke. 

“You did? But…” Paloma looked down at the soil and frowned. “Ah… you were right, look at the fungus. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Her shoulders slumped. “You’re the alchemical master, not me. Now we’ve got to start all over, do we even have enough seeds-”

“Paloma.” He interrupted evenly and moved the glowstone closer. “Look more closely.”

“I am looking. There’s white fuzzy fungus everywhere. Even on the ...dead wood...” She blinked, noticing the flash of green. She lowered herself to a squat and stared at the green sapling sprouting. 

“You were correct in your premise that waterlogging would prevent weed growth and thus, encourage their growth.” 

“But you were right about the fungus. Look it’s everywhere.” 

“And yet the sapling continues to grow.” He added. “I enquired with one of our botanist enchanters who studied under Enchanter Arancia. The presence of fungus can be a signal to a healthy soil for some plants. In this case, it appears the fungus that would discourage growth for most plants, such as the dead wood, would in fact **encourage** the growth for Andraste’s Grace.” 

Paloma beamed up at him. “This is amazing!” She stood. “Clemence!” 

He expected her level of excitement to cause an unsolicited hug as she had before. But there was none, instead she stood staring at him. Her gaze appeared wet. 

“Is something troubling you?” He asked. 

“What, no. sorry.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “These are happy tears.” 

“Happy tears?” He tilted his head. 

Paloma laughed and swallowed. Of course he wouldn’t understand that. Tears were so associated with injury, that for them to be happy seemed crazy. “It means I’m filled with overwhelming happiness.” 

“Overwhelming?” He blinked, alarmed and reached into his robes for the runes. 

“No no!” She stopped him. “Not like that. This… this is a good emotion. A really good one.” She looked back at the plant, squatting to get close to it. “This little sapling is just proof to me that maybe...maybe I can do something important. It started off as an idea in the Circle, but this is physical proof of that idea made real.” 

She could attempt to cure the blight with this. And if she could cure the blight. She would be okay. 

Initially, the blight and taint were her only real fears. Being condemned to Broodmotherhood was a nightmare no one deserved. Being in the circles drastically reduced that danger but she knew the Circles were to rebel and put her out among darkspawn and red templars. Exposure to the blight was the biggest and scariest threat. Not the circles, not the normal templars, not demon possession. The Blight. So when she saw Clemence working on those wild flowers years ago, she saw her chance and took it.

And now...now this was tangible real proof. 

“It is getting quite late, we should retire.” Clemence pulled her from her thoughts.

“I...I kind of want to stay the night. Just...to be sure.” She looked up. 

“Where will we sleep?” Clemence questioned. 

We? Paloma picked up the word. Clemence would be staying too? She smiled to herself but looked around the shed. She pulled two benches out from under some pots and wiped them clean. “Here. it’s not so different from when we were sharing a bedroll in Andoral’s Reach.”

“No. It is not different.” Clemence agreed. 

“Just uh...we’ll have to get cozy though, to share space.” She cringed. “I’ll cast a warming ward.” 

“Of course.” He sat on the long bench. It was long enough for him, but Paloma was naturally taller than he. She would have to curl up. He laid down as Paloma sat beside him. She checked the sapling again but scooted back. Her fingers, he noted were bandaged as she cast the warming ward. 

The fade tear swept over him and the scent of her filled him. His chest tightened and his arm wrapped around her when she lay against him, tucking her head on his forearm. The tightness in his chest twisted as he grabbed one of her hands. 

“What happened?” He seethed. The bubbling unpleasantness in the back of his throat caused him to cough and shake.

Paloma sat up shocked and looked at him. “Are you alright?”

He finished coughing and the tightness was gone, as was the tonal shift in his voice. 

“Yes. My apologies for causing you worry. Perhaps the dust in the air aggravated my lungs.” He blinked. 

“Ah… shoot. Yeah let me.” She reached a hand to the sigil and modified it to remove the dust.

Again the fade tear rippled and swept over him. The tightness was quick and faded as quickly as the tear was healed. 

“That better?” She looked at him worried and unsure. 

“Yes, thank you.” He settled back down. Paloma did as well, slowly and looking at him. “However, what has occurred to your hands? Why are they bandaged?” 

Paloma held one hand up. “I was punished for arguing with Felix.” She sighed. She was over it now. It was no worse than the ruler some people got on their knuckles in religious schools. “Just a few wacks really. Nothing big.” She shrugged and tucked her hand under her head as a pillow. 

Clemence looked down. Her legs dangled over the edge of the bench. “You may curl up.” He spoke softly. “Sleeping as such will be uncomfortable.” 

“Ahmmm.” Paloma hummed. “But that means my leg would be over you.”

“I am aware.” He blinked. 

Paloma tucked her head further into his chest, to hide the flush in her cheeks. But she did as asked. If anyone came in here, this would be one sight to behold. 

Speaking of. 

She aimed her hand toward the door and drew a simple locking sigil. Clemence shifted beside her and pulled her leg up until she was halfway side-ways straddling him. 

“Ah-” She looked up and his eyes were darker than she’d ever seen. Until he blinked and the lightness of his blue eyes returned. She didn’t question the shift, chalked it up to the change in light and simply tucked her head back down. 

“Do you require more space?” He breathed into the top of her head.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” She sped out and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, Clemence."

"Goodnight, Paloma." He breathed, falling asleep to the scents of her favorite flowers. Embrium and lavender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to LonelyAgain for some advice on foreshadowing. :D
> 
> Also yes, Clemence is shorter than Paloma.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma and Clemence wake and prepare for the day. Paloma finally speaks to Linnea and then serves Felix the wrong tea.

“Ah!” Paloma sat up looking around the shed confused, before she spotted their magical greenhouse experiment and the sprouting sapling. The memories from the middle of the night came back to her. A pleasant bubbling happiness filled her and she lay back down, curling into Clemence’s side. 

“Paloma.” Clemence breathed against her when she settled back down. 

“Good morning, Clemence.” She sang intending on rousing him but when he didn’t, she didn’t try again. His brows furrowed once before he tucked his head into her birds nest for hair, seeking more sleep. 

Paloma hummed, amused, and decided to let him sleep more. Most tranquil enjoyed sleep. Because their minds got a moment to rest instead of having to analyze every stimulant and figure out the motives and the pros and cons of everyone around them. They finally got to shut off and just relax. With no fear of visiting the fade when they slept, their REM sleep was likely the safest and most relaxed they could be. 

Paloma envied that. Having someplace safe to sleep was like that for her. Knowing Clemence had that runic necklace was a relief.

Though, this moment right now was the safest and happiest she’s ever been since arriving. Knowing the Andraste’s Grace was growing, being in Redcliffe, safe from darkspawn, and being tucked against the only person she truly trusted. She didn’t have to think of all the dangers there were. This world was plenty scary without her adding more. 

But all these things, Clemence, the plant and just having a moment of stability, made it a lot less scary. Like she could relax and let her guard down. 

Sure her hands were bandaged. But she was warm, dry, well fed, and could enjoy these quiet moments. 

Although the quiet was still a bit unsettling for her. Having been raised around constant noise and then suddenly plunged into such constant lack of it. The only reprieve being when in the chapel or the Chantry. The chant being sung so lovingly, it brought tears to her eyes the first time she heard it. And then Zither visited the Spire and she knew there could be so much more. 

But that was for another day. For now the silence was bearable if only because she could hear Clemence’s breathing, the soft thudding of his heart against her ear, and the pittering of the rain outside. It was gentle at first, yet slowly it came down harder until the roof began to lightly leak.

She sighed and raised one hand into the air to block it but it would persist for however long they stayed or the rain lasted. 

She didn’t use magic much. Not for things she hadn’t practiced dozens of times first. And like Clemence said, she thought of mundane - non magical - solutions first. 

But for this, unless she wanted to get up, grab, and hold a bucket above them, the leak would not stop. 

With a huff she drew and redrew the sigil for shield in the air. Layering them until the drip was redirected around them. 

Clemence’s arms tightened around her. His chest expanded as he took a deep groaning breath. He rolled over her.

“Eep.” She squeaked, halting him before he could roll off the bench by propping her left leg up and gripping the back of his robes. 

His hand came to rest on her thigh to steady himself, holding it up to his hips. His right leg wedged between her thighs as he propped himself over her. His gaze dark, glittering, and his lips parted as he breathed her name. “Paloma.” 

Paloma gasped. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded against her heated chest.

He looked down between them and blinked before he looked around. His gaze lightening as he woke fully. “Ah...I had forgotten we slept here.” 

“It’s raining.” Paloma gulped as she tried to fight the flush creeping up her neck.

Clemence let go of her leg and scooted off the bench. “I will retrieve you a cloak.” 

“Ah, no you don’t have to.” Paloma sat up, halting him.

“You will become drenched in the rain.” He pointed out. 

Paloma was pretty sure she was drenched anyway. She sighed and shook her head. “You’ll end up wet as well. Besides we’re going in the same direction and it will be faster, and judging by the light, we might need to hurry.” She might have let him sleep in a lot longer than she should have. 

Clemence looked toward the window and nodded. “Yes, we will need to be quick.” 

Paloma sat up, brushed the dirt off her robe, and canceled the sigils over head. They checked their greenhouse experiment, Paloma bounced a little to see both the sprout and fungus growing but not to the detriment to each other. 

They opened the door to the shed, took one look at the downpour of frigid rain. 

“We will have to run.” Clemence pointed out. 

“Yeah…” 

“Are you prepared?” 

“Oh! Wait. no.” She slipped off her slippers and tucked them in her robe pocket. “These take forever to dry and I’m sure I’ll just slip and fall if I try to run in them.” 

“That is keen foresight.” 

They looked at each other and then took off. Paloma ran first. The winter rain felt refreshing for her, but once the wind picked up, her teeth chattered. “Maker that’s cold!” She yelled back as she near slipped in the mud. Clemence caught her wrist and kept her upright. 

When the servants quarters were in sight, they ran faster. Clemence getting there before her and holding the door open for her. She ducked in and wrapped her arms around her body. Her nose was frosted and she knew it’d be red. 

“It would appear we ended up drenched anyway.” Clemence spoke around his teeth chattering. 

“Yes. Well, at least we don’t need to bathe.” Paloma joked as she pushed open the door to the women’s quarters. 

“We must bathe. You’re covered in mud.” Clemence pointed at her legs and then looked at himself, where he too was covered in mud from the knee down. “Ah, we both must.”

“I’ll start the water.” She chattered. “If you get the soaps.” 

At his nod, she ducked in. Enchanters Linnea and Halli were exiting the shared bathing space. The two of them raised their brows at Paloma. 

“Linnea! I wanted to speak with you.” 

“Do you hear that, Halli?” Linnea turned away from her. “An apprentice who spends her days with tranquil wishes to speak with me.”

Halli snorted. “Sounds like the apprentice never learned proper how to greet her superiors.” The two laughed and carried on down to the door. 

Paloma frowned. “Its about why you stopped delivering the Magister’s son’s meals.” Paloma added. Linnea froze at the door, looked back at her. 

“Go on Halli.” Linnea stated. When Halli made a tutting sound, Linnea slapped her shoulder and she was quick to leave. Once they were alone, Linnea looked at her. “Did he touch you?” 

Paloma’s eyes widened. 

“To the void with that Tevinter.” Linnea swore. Her expression softened as she walked over and touched Paloma’s shoulder. “I thought he’d be disgusted by an elf.”

“I’m not- He...didn’t touch me.” Paloma fumbled over her words as Linnea checked her over. “But I was more worried if he had done so to you. And that maybe thats why you stopped.” Paloma questioned.

“No. He hadn’t.” Linnea admitted and then she snarled. “But his father insinuated that I should let him.” She crossed her arms. “He originally told me the reason he requested I be his son’s serving girl is due to my superior talent in magic.” She huffed. “A fat load of druffalo shit is what it is.”

“Why didn’t you tell Fiona?” Paloma asked. 

“The Grand Enchanter? The one negotiating with him on our behalf. I wasn’t going to let one disagreement stop our chances of becoming Tevinter citizens.” Linnea muttered and sighed.

“Oh.” Paloma looked down. She bit the inside of her cheek. They weren’t to become citizens, not even indentured servants as Gereon stated when he punished her. “I suppose that makes sense.” 

“Yes. If he touches you though, let me know. I will take care of any…unwelcome circumstances,” Linnea offered and looked down at her belly. “I have a preserved bottle of witherstalk should you need it.” 

“Thank you.” Paloma watched as she left the hall. Clemence came from the men’s quarters to her still there. “Ah! The water! Sorry, I got caught up with Linnea.”

“It is no matter. I have sent Banon ahead to begin preparations on the morning meal.” Clemence informed. “I trust all is well between you and Linnea?” 

“Yes. Ah get the water started. I need to go grab my robes.” She ducked into the women’s quarters, grabbing her robes and a towel.

She opened the door to the shared bath, to Clemence without his robes on and wringing them into the drain. His back was to her. She could trace the lines of muscles as he strained. They relaxed as he shook out the robe and hung it to dry. 

It wasn’t the first time she’s seen Clemence naked. But it was the first time she’d seen him naked after the morning they had. Waking up with him over her like that. Her cheeks burned and she averted her gaze to give him privacy.

She stepped around to the women’s side of the shared baths. The divide was a wooden wall over the enchanted stone basins that stretched down the room. They could slide in dividers in the basin and use them as sinks. Or in this case, to keep water warm while they cleaned themselves. 

Paloma slid one divider on one side while Clemence did the other. He raised the one in the middle, as did she and he poured the hot water in. They let their dividers down.

She stripped, wrung out her sleeping gown and robes, hung them, then unwrapped her bandages. They weren’t bleeding but there would be faint pink marks until they fully healed with no scars. She took a small bowl and collected the hot water to pour over herself, fighting off the remaining chill before grabbing the soaps Clemence left for her and lathering.

Clemence was usually done bathing before her, so it was a bit of a shock when she exited to find he was still in the baths. 

“Everything alright?” She asked. 

“Yes. I will be a moment.” Came Clemence’s slightly strained tone.

Paloma shrugged and returned her drenched robes to her shared room and pulled on her apron. Her fingers lingered on her bag. After last night’s news, she wanted to begin working on the new proportions for the andraste’s grace to deep mushroom to felicidus aria to lyrium dust. She grabbed her jars and stuffed them in her apron.

Her hair was still dripping wet and tangled, but there was no time to do anything but untangle it. 

Clemence came out dressed and ready. His hair combed and slicked back. 

“What took you so long?” 

“I required expressing.” Was his simple and entirely too informative reply.

Paloma’s cheeks reddened and she looked anywhere but at him. 

“Your hair is uncombed and tangled. I will assist.” 

“Ah-um. Okay.” She stammered. He followed her into her shared room and retrieved her comb. 

She sat on a stool, lowering herself so he could reach. 

Clemence’s fingers worked to part her hair into sections and quickly untangled it in said sections before combing all of it back. Paloma closed her eyes, enjoying the massage to her scalp. Her shoulders relaxed. 

His fingers lingered over her neck as he pulled her hair back and quickly braided it. “It will not hold as your hair is much too curled. But it will do for now.”

“Thank you.” 

The run to the kitchens after that was easier with an oilslick cloak over them both. But the frigid air of winter's last gasp was another matter. They should have found cloaks in the village. They've been relying on warming wards from other mages before Redcliffe and now Paloma since arriving. 

The kitchen was a bustle with Banon and Helisma serving up plates of pan perdu with fruits. Even Keili had lingered to assist. 

“Well look who decided to join us, ladies.” Banon squinted. 

“Sorry about the delay.” Paloma crossed, tossing the jars from her apron onto the counter and taking Banon’s place to pull out the cooked pan perdu from the ovens. Her fingers bare as she grabbed the hot metal without so much as a blink. 

“You know… it never quite occurred to me that because of your attunement you could grab those without oven mitts,” Banon slipped to the otherside beside Keili. 

“Paloma was assigned to the kitchens because of this added bonus.” Helisma spoke quickly. 

“Huh, well that’s certainly handy.”

“Only until you remember how badly I messed up the dough the other day.” Paloma pointed out.

“Oooh, yes that is a rather terrible downside.” Banon teased. ”Never can you ever make puff pastries again.” He mockingly spoke in woe. 

“Ha ha.” Paloma stuck her tongue out. “I rather like working with dough.” 

“Why? It’s incessantly tedious.” 

“Because I can punch or whack it with my rolling pin.” She pulled off the fresh bread and onto the tray for the banquet. “Helps me work out my frustrations.” 

“What a terrible way to work out frustrations.” Banon mused. 

“Do you require expressing?” Keili spoke. 

“NO!” Paloma yelped and dropped the pan she’d been grabbing, bread scattering across the floor. “I...mean. No. No, I don’t.” She hunched down to pick up the bread, cheeks inflamed red. 

Banon raised one brow in doubt. Clemence had paused as well, looking at Paloma in thought.

Helisma looked between Clemence and Paloma but when Clemence returned to setting the various cheeses on the banquet tray, she said nothing and walked around to assist Paloma.

“I thought you were only helping yesterday?” Paloma asked her. 

“The Grand Enchanter ask that I be stationed in the kitchen as a Magister complained of my presence in the stables.” Helisma explained dully. 

“I guess we’ll likely see more of the other tranquil coming this way then?”

“That is likely, if we are not sent out of the castle all together.” Helisma explained. 

Paloma stood and dropped the bread onto the tray. She caught sight of familiar looking flowers in the center of the stone tablet. She grabbed one in shock, looking to Clemence for explanation when she noted the light and then swore. “SHOOT. Felix’s breakfast!” 

“I can assist.” Helisma offered. 

“Uh... uh, the instructions for his tea are on the wall. I need to go grab something from the cellar.” She took off down the kitchen stairs to find the cooled barrels. Specifically she found the bucket next to the frost rune. She grabbed it and headed back upstairs. 

Helisma was just warming up the water when she returned. “Thank you Helisma, I’ll take over.” She dumped the bucket on the wooden counter. The ice cream was rock solid and needed to melt a little anyway for her to work with. 

Automatically she opened the jar and added three scoops into the boiling kettle and sprinkled in the lyrium dust. As it was simmering, she carved the ice cream out and set it in a mixing bowl. She added a dash of cinnamon and then chili pepper powder. She mixed, cast a frost rune, mixed, and cast another frost rune until it was all incorporated. With pan perdu, she sliced it diagonally and set the ice cream on top. Clemence set a small serving bowl of pomegranate molasses onto the tray. She smiled at his assistance and poured the tea. 

She paused however when the tea’s consistency was off. It looked darker. The color was different as well. 

“Do you need assistance further? It is almost past time.” Clemence reminded. 

“Ah no.” She faltered. “I’ll take it up now.” She grabbed the serving tray and walked toward the door. 

“Are you certain you are able to?” Clemence asked as he halted her. He looked to her hands where the pink marks appeared aggravated thanks to the extreme cold and then heat. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” She nodded and up she went. She eyed the tea. There was no time to fix that. She was sure it’ll be fine. Not like Felix wasn’t slated to die anyway. 

Paloma slowed her ascent at the thought. It was a horrible thought to have but no less true. His being afflicted with a wasting illness because of the blight was why she was trying to avoid it for herself, or at least find a way to treat it if it should ever happen to her. 

Shaking her head she passed the slave, Niris, but didn’t so much as look at her or give her extras. Not that she blamed her for the marks on her hands, but Paloma was already late. She’ll make it up to her later. 

With a knock, she waited, and entered Felix’s room. She kept her head down as she entered.

“Ah, Paloma.” Felix stood. His expression falling when she didn’t respond as she normally did. 

“Will you be having your breakfast in bed or at the table.” She kept her gaze down. No arguments, no extreme emotions. Just as Fiona said. 

“The table.” He responded. “Are you unwell?” 

“I am fine, thank you. Do you require anything else?” She asked softly. 

“No...no. Did you get my flowers?” He pressed. 

Flowers? She looked up and caught Felix’s hopeful expression. “Flowers?” 

“Yes, I left them with the tranquil...” Felix tried.

“Which one, there are several.”

“Ah…” He blanked and thought about it. He was sure he caught it last night. “Clark...Clarence?” 

“Clemence?” 

“Yes. Clemence, that was his name.” He grinned. “I left them with him last night when I returned. But you weren’t in. You had already retired.” 

“Flowers…” She thought on it. “Oh! The Andraste’s Grace!” She perked up. The flowers that had been on the stone tablet that morning. 

“Is that what they’re called?” Felix stepped forward.

“Commonly, yes.” 

“Appropriate.” Felix nodded and stepped toward Paloma.

“Why?”

“They remind me of you.” Felix winked at her. 

Paloma blinked, wide eyed, and her cheeks flushed. The response was exactly what Felix hoped for as he grinned with smug satisfaction. Paloma laughed and looked away, trying to control her smile from stretching too wide. 

“I admit, it may seem a bit forward. But...ah.” Felix released a laugh. “I saw them whilst walking through Old Redcliffe yesterday.” 

“Old Redcliffe?”

“Yes, it was destroyed during the Fifth Blight. I wanted to see how well it had recovered. I came across this dead wood.”

“And the soil was wet?” She asked. She couldn’t remember many fine details but now that she was reminded, yes… how could she have forgotten? Those flowers could be found in Redcliffe, the Brecilian forest, and even in Denerim. She didn’t need to head to the Korcari wilds to find them!

“Yes. The tranquil mentioned-”

“Clemence.” She provided.

“Yes, him.” 

“He has a name. Please use it.” Paloma stared at him, daring him to challenge her.

“Alright.” Felix nodded, unperturbed. “Clemence mentioned you were interested in them for medicinal purposes.” 

“I am.” 

“Do you find them agreeable? Are you able to use them? Or will they simply look pretty. Because if so, I’d very much like to see you with one-” He pulled from his robes pocket a single flower he had kept. “Tucked into your hair.” He gestured, asking for permission. 

Paloma giggled and stepped closer to let him. “You are decidedly too smooth for your own good.” 

“I certainly hope so. I spent all morning practicing it.” Felix admitted as he retreated back to his table, admiring the flower in her hair. 

“You did not!” Paloma squinted. 

“I did.” And to emphasize, he showed off his palms. “I’ve even got sweaty palms.”

Paloma let out a bark of laughter before cackling, until she had to cover her mouth. 

“I’m pleased you find me amusing.” Felix grinned. “But do you find them agreeable?”

“Oh yes.” Paloma nodded. “They’re very pretty. And they have quite a lot of uses. I heard tale of a rumor the Grey Wardens used it in a potion for their mabari during the Fifth Blight to make them less susceptible to the taint.” She explained. 

“Really?” His expression turned serious. 

“Yes, though it was only a rumor.” She sighed. 

“Well, considering it’s growing very well on once blighted lands, however brief, I’d say they made a good choice.” He smiled at her. The silence was pleasant as they stared at each other, until Paloma remembered she had to return to make supper. 

“Did you need anything else?”

“Yes.” Felix faltered, opening his mouth a few times to work up the nerve. Paloma was patient until he finally got it out. “What are your favorite flowers?” 

“Sorry, why?” Paloma crossed her arms with a good natured squint. 

“Well, so that I can get you those next time.” 

"Next time?" She pursed her lips as she considered it. “Well, you could have asked Clemence. But if you **must** know, it’s Embrium and Lavender.” 

“Huh…” Felix looked confused. Clemence knew?

“What?”

“Ah nothing. But why those two?” 

“They’re calming.”

“So I take it you use them in your soaps and oils?” 

“And teas.” 

“Ah speaking of.” Felix grabbed his cup. 

Paloma went to stop him, remembering the botched job she did of it. But stopped when he drank it all. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“No. Just pleased you had a good time out yesterday.” She forced a smile and stepped back. 

“I did, thank you.” 

“I…best be going before the kitchen turns to chaos.” Paloma bowed out. 

She touched the flower in her hair with a smile as she walked toward the stairs. But frowned as she remembered the tea and rushed down. She went back to the kettle, looked inside and then sniffed it. “Helisma, which jar did you make the tea with?” 

Helisma looked at the counter and pointed. Paloma followed her point to her jar of ground andraste’s grace leaves. “Was it the incorrect one?”

Paloma bit her lip. What was the likelihood of Andraste’s Grace undoing the effect of ghoul’s beard and everything else in Felix’s medicinal tea? Probably high. You don’t mix medicines after all. “No…just…making sure.” 

It’d be fine, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos. Just finished writing this and wanted it out. Let me know what you all think. And if you happen upon a typo, please inform me with your comment.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma cooks Tevinter cuisine.

Paloma stared intently at Felix as she set his meal down on his table. She hadn’t seen him since that morning, and he didn’t **look **ill from her botched tea. But looking fine and being fine were two separate matters. Someone could look perfectly normal one moment and the next suffer an aneurysm or a stroke and be dead within minutes. For all she knew, the wasting illness could be getting stronger. Felix could end up coughing in his bed again like she’d seen the first day she delivered his meals. Or...he could get terminally ill quicker and in the matter of minutes or an hour, like Wesley - Aveline’s first husband. 

“Are you quite well?” Felix raised a brow at her intense staring. 

“Sorry…” Paloma blinked and tried to remember what he’d been saying. He described something and pointed at the slateboard, where a series of equations and numbers were. She recognized a few, but wasn’t sure. 

“You haven’t heard a single word I said?” Felix frowned. 

“I-...no?” Paloma gave a sheepish smile. 

“Is it that boring?” Felix looked at the board and then her.

“To be honest I was distracted.” She confessed. She wasn’t very good at direct lying so she wouldn’t do it. 

“May I ask what has you distracted?” 

It was better to go with the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. A half truth, a lie by omission. “Well you.” Paloma sighed. 

“Oh!” Felix blinked, his neck and cheeks turning red as he looked away. “I…” his lips stretched into a smile. 

Paloma realized perhaps she should have chosen a different response. Her own cheeks burned as she ducked her head down. “I mean...uh…” She fumbled for something else. 

“I suppose its...ahem...a good thing you’re not one of my apprentices or students.” Felix laughed as he set his chalk down at the board. 

“You teach?” Paloma asked. 

“I used to.” He sighed as he sat. “Before…” he gestured at his tea to indicate his illness. “I was a professor’s assistant while pursuing my Masters of Philosophy at the University of Orlais.”

“Philosophy? I thought you were a master of mathematics?” Paloma asked. 

“You really didn’t hear anything I said.” He laughed. “I finished my masters of mathematics. But a Masters of Philosophy includes that among other fields.” 

“What other fields?”

“History, philosophy, mathematics, linguistics, and the social, mundane, and magical sciences.”

“Wait… to get a masters of philosophy, you have to...study all of those including...philosophy?” Paloma furrowed her brows. 

“Ah… my apology. A mistranslation…” Felix tapped his fingers on the table as he mumbled a few words. “It was Masters of Wisdom. I had to study philosophy for it.” 

“Ooooh.” She nodded. “You’re quite knowledgeable.”

“Yes.” He snorted. “My father spared no expense when it was revealed my magic wasn’t quite as developed as others in our family would have hoped. I wanted for nothing in terms of education.” 

“Sounds like he’s a good father.” 

“I uh…” Felix frowned. “I suppose he is.” He looked down at the table and lapsed into silence and thought.

Paloma took that moment to look closer again. The bags under his eyes weren’t as pronounced as they were at the beginning of the week. His skin looked less pale and was livelier. There was even a sun glow to it, which she blamed on his jaunt through Redcliffe yesterday. He was certainly walking around a lot more and seemed a buzz with energy, but that could be due to being able to stretch his legs. 

She caught Felix now looking at her, his lips raised in a half smirk as he lifted his chin. “I can model if you’d like?” 

“Ah!” She bowed her head with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry.”

“No no, I won’t deprive you of my visage.” His smirk turned cocky.

“Oooh, you’re so smug.” Paloma pursed her lips and huffed while shaking her head and turned around to head to the door. 

“Can you blame me? To have you so captivated by my appearance.” He teased. 

“Enjoy your meal, Felix.” Paloma laughed with a roll of her eyes and opened the door. 

“I will.” He called as she left. 

Paloma shook her head all the way back down to the kitchens. Her footsteps slowing. She really hoped Felix was okay. 

Once back in the kitchen she was on autopilot. She helped finish what was necessary and Clemence prepared their meals. It was a spicy lentil soup that night with a bit of pita bread. Something to warm the bones and comfort the soul as the weather was still rather dreary and overcast. She barely managed to eat it all. 

Eventually she found herself in the kitchen biting her fingernails to stubby ends while staring at the Andraste’s Grace jar. The flowers really were beautiful, the red coloring more vibrant than the ones she had dried in her jar. The white fuzz of the fungus lightly coated the petal ends and the stem. She had to really look, but once you knew what to look for it was obvious. It was the same as the one still in her hair. But it was all just a distraction. 

For at every sound, she looked toward the kitchen door or into the corridor. She expected to see Magister Gereon, or Fiona, or a slave come to collect her for poisoning Felix. Yet nothing happened. No one came for her.

The slaves had come and gone to clean the dirty dishes and the preparations for tomorrow had already been completed. The last of which was retrieving anything that needed to thaw out overnight or marinade. 

“Are you unwell?” Clemence asked as he covered the pigeons they were letting sit in a brine for roasting tomorrow. 

She could never hide anything around Clemence. But how was she meant to explain this? Oh she ruined the medicine that is likely keeping Felix alive and his survival is the only bargaining chip Fiona had to get them to Tevinter. 

Not that they were going to Tevinter, but still. If she somehow messed it up and made him die earlier than he was supposed to…

She gulped. 

“I’ve just got a twisting feeling in my stomach, like I’ve done something wrong.” She admitted at least that much. Not the why, but just what she was feeling. 

Clemence lowered his gaze to her stomach and tilted his head in thought. 

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’m sure it’ll pass.” Paloma waved off, but Clemence was already walking around the stone table toward where she kept their various herbs and leaves. He pulled three canisters forward, measured out four scoops from one, and one scoop from the others.

“Clemence?” She walked around to eye the tea leaves he pulled out. Nettle, dandelion, and red raspberry leaves. She squinted.  
  
“You do not like the taste of ginger tea, this is an appropriate alternative given the date approaching.” Clemence explained as he set the mixture into the kettle and boiled it. 

Nettle was a diuretic and helped process and flush toxins and prevented infections in the urinary tract. Dandelion also assisted those but also reduced cramping. And raspberry leaves helped with heavy flows during those times of the months. 

“Oh.” She looked at Clemence as the tea came to a boil and he served it. “OH!” He thought she was having her menses. “I’m not- wait…” Paloma blinked. He said given the date approaching. She counted on her fingers and blanched and then felt shame burn the back of her neck for not keeping track better. It was a little hard to keep track without a daily Calendar. 

“I will be sure to have Keili request a balming oil from the healer when she visits the village tomorrow morning.” Clemence set the cup in front of her. “Drink.”

Paloma sighed, but did drink. It wasn’t sweetened but drinking it did settle a lot of the twisting tightening feeling in her abdomen. Clemence hadn’t been entirely off about that.

“Thank you.” She drank more as Clemence cleaned the now dirtied kettle and put the canisters back. 

She always wondered why he kept such an encyclopedic recall on her. From her tea preferences, to how to untangle her hair in sections to prevent excessive hair pulling, to even having an internal menstrual calendar on her. Besides the obvious of, because the Knight Vigilant told him too. 

There was keeping tabs, and then there was… what Clemence did. It felt somehow more. More than just friends. “Clemence…” She sighed as she looked at the brand on his forehead. 

Or it could just be her wishful thinking. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Perhaps she did need to explore expressing, as Keili suggested. Especially if she was starting to have these thoughts again. “I’m going to linger in the kitchen for a bit longer. You go on ahead, you must be tired.” 

He looked at her. “Of course.” He nodded. “Do try not to stay too long as well. It would not do well for you to miss sleep.” 

“I won’t. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” He left and Paloma let out a huff of breath. She looked around the kitchen, went to the broom closet and grabbed the baking soda. She mixed it with some water to make a paste and set about scrubbing the stove, the table, even the floor around the prep area and the walls. 

Two hours later, purified cleaning water, and a mixture of vinegar and lemon coating later and the kitchen smelled and looked clean. She’d even dusted. 

Yet, her anxiety level was still high. Everytime she thought of her botched tea, her stomach twisted and even finishing the tea Clemence made her was little help. It was meant to calm her and be tastier than ginger tea, but she couldn’t even bring herself to enjoy. She didn’t deserve it, she told herself. 

And now she was alone in the kitchen. With nothing to distract her. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep. 

Pulling up a stool she grabbed the recipe books and the list of what they had currently in stock. A lot of Nocenic fruits and vegetables. But also some Boeric stuff, from Seheron and some choice fruits from Rivain. She planned the next few weeks worth of meals. 

Paloma awoke to the sound of the outside kitchen entrance opening. She sat upright with a jolt, staring bleary eyed at Keili who paused upon seeing her. It was an hour or two before sunrise by the amount of light she saw through the open door. 

She’d fallen asleep at the stone table. A tray of uncooked falafels beside her and large bowl of freshly made hummus that she had prepared for breakfast, and pita dough resting ready to split and pan cook, and a large pot of soaking fava beans. 

“I had not realized you had arrived early to the kitchens.” Keili stated. 

“Yeap.” Paloma gave a strained smile.

“I will begin churning. Do you require a different amount of butter today?”

“Right.” Paloma nodded and pulled the meal plan to reference. “Uh yes, an extra block of thyme butter block, if you would.”

“Of course.” Keili nodded.

“I should…start cooking breakfast.” Paloma stood up with a yawn and stretch. Her back cracked and spine popped from having spent the night sleeping hunched over on the table. She grabbed a bucket and filled it with water at the pump. Running her fingers through the water, she undid the remnants of her braid. A pain in her forehead letting her know she needed more sleep. She left her hair loose, splashed her face to wake up, and downed two glasses of water. “Right.” 

Back in the kitchen she opened a crate of brinjals, breaking the Tevinter and dwarven seal of preservation. She cut them lengthways and set them to roast with a cumin and light olive oil rub. She would have used more olive oil, but even that was used sparingly due to how expensive it was for Gereon to import to the boonies of Thedas. 

Once they were roasted, she removed the brinjal meat into a large bowl and set the skin aside. She’d cut those up to add texture and a twist in the flavour profile to the soup. 

“Here is the butter, Paloma.” Keilie came up and set the block down. 

“Just in time.” Paloma grabbed it and cut three tablespoons worth and threw it on the pot. “Grab me the chicken stock from the cellar, if you would.” 

“Yes.”

Onion paste and finely chopped celery were added next. It took little time for it all too soften and were beginning to brown. She added the tomatoes, cilantro, garlic, parsley, and finally the brinjal meat. 

“Here you go.” Keili set the jar down. 

“Thank you.”

“I depart for the village now. Is there anything else that will be needed in the kitchen?” Keili waited. 

“Did Clemence tell you about the balming oil?” At Kelli’s nod Paloma smiled. “Nothing else aside from that.” Paloma smiled at her and she went off. “Thanks for the help!” She called, though she was sure Keili hadn’t heard. 

The chicken stock wasn’t fully frozen, but it would do. She added an extra cup of water to help it along. Salt and pepper to taste with some sparingly added ground cayenne. The soup isn’t meant to be too spicy. She set the whole affair to simmer on the flame just as the outside kitchen entrance opened again. In came in Clemence who stopped when he saw her. 

“Paloma?” His brows furrowed in confusion. “You have arrived early.”

“Yeap!” She beamed brightly. “Early start. Breakfast is almost done as well!” She gestured to the soup simmering and the spread. 

Clemence came up behind her. “Allow me to braid your hair so it does not become cumbersome or gets in your way.” He pulled her hair back, fingers brushing over her neck slowly. 

Paloma’s throat tightened as his nails scraped right over the nape of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine. She hunched her shoulders and pulled his hands out. “I - uh I want to keep it down today.” 

“I see.” Clemence nodded and simply turned to begin roasting the falafels. 

Paloma looked at him, unsure if he’d been dejected or not. He always offered to braid her hair. Her gaze lingered on his brand. He’s tranquil, she reminded herself. There was nothing in the offer except her own wishful thinking. 

Breakfast was done quicker than most days, allowing for them to take their own meal before it was sent off to the dining hall. Banon and Helisma arrived as Paloma served them all a helping of coffee, cream, and sugar and left over brioche with a hard boiled egg. 

“I did not see you return to our quarters last night, Paloma.” Helisma began, staring over the cup of coffee at her. “Linnea wished to speak with you on a matter.” 

“She did?” Paloma perked up, curious. “Do you know what?” 

“No. I was not informed of what the matter was only to alert her as soon as you returned.” Helisma sipped at the coffee.

“Huh.” Paloma looked up. She wondered what it was Linnea needed to talk about. She felt a long stare on her and looked to her left to find Clemence staring at her. “What?”

“You did not return to the servants’ quarters.” Clemence spoke. “That certainly explains your appearance.”

“What’s wrong with my appearance?” Paloma squinted. 

“You look like you didn’t sleep.” Banon mused. 

“Yes.” Clemence agreed. 

“I slept!” Paloma hissed. 

“You’re a bad liar, Loma.” Banon snorted as he dipped his brioche in the coffee. 

Paloma glared. “I don’t like lying if I don’t have to.” She got up, collecting their breakfast dishes to clean.

She could feel Clemence’s stare heavily on her. 

“Anyway back to work for all of us. Just because breakfast banquet is finished doesn’t mean we can’t get a head start on lunch. Go on.” She gestured. 

When the slaves came for the breakfast spread, Paloma was already climbing up the stairs toward Felix’s room. She stopped by the slave Niris and smiled at her. “Sorry I didn’t give you anything yesterday.” She held out a falafel. 

Niris looked down at Paloma’s hands where the pink lines from each thwack were still healing. “Thank you.” She took the falafel and bit into it. 

Paloma didn’t wait for anything else, the slave’s heavy gaze was enough to unsettle and remind her of the weight of the switch as it came across her fingers. 

She knocked on Felix’s door. She turned the knob however as Felix called “Just a minute!” but she’d opened the door to an unusual scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tevinter cuisine = Middle Eastern & East Asian cuisine
> 
> This chapter was more slice of life because I want/need to highlight Paloma cooking Tevinter cuisine. It'll come up again soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma walks in on Felix speaking with someone and deals with guilt.

Paloma wasn’t sure what she was seeing. There was what looked like a blue spirit-holographic like figure of a certain Altus of House Pavus. He blinked and gazed at her as Felix turned in spot with a pallid expression, that softened and then panicked in quick rapid succession. 

“Shut the door.” Felix’s tone was of desperation as he raced to her, but he needn’t have as Paloma was quick to shut it behind her. She pressed her back against it as Felix pressed both his hands on either side of her, trapping her there. The only thing between them was the tray of food she held. 

The hologram disappeared from the corner of her eye. 

“Uhh…” Paloma gulped as she stared up at Felix. He was holding himself over her, not pinning her to the door but definitely preventing her escape by keeping the door closed. 

Felix took a deep breath and softly asked, “What did you hear?” 

“No-nothing?” Paloma didn’t lie. She heard nothing. Not that if she did hear something, she would tell anyone. 

Felix searched her expressions and nodded when he saw her truth, pleased. “And what did you see?” 

“A spirit?” She tried, confused. “I think?”

Felix stepped back away from her. He considered his next words heavily as he looked toward where it had been and then to Paloma. 

“Close.” He admitted. “It was a reflection.” At Paloma’s confused expression he continued. “An image made of light cast into this space on three dimensions.” 

Paloma nodded and looked down at the tray she held still. “Should...I come back?”

“What?” Felix blinked. “Oh no, please. On the table.” 

Paloma was slow to walk to the table, keeping Felix in her view. When there, all she did was put the tray on top and left it. She didn’t unload, but looked back toward where the image had been. 

Felix watched every move she made and followed her. He grabbed the crystal, intending on sliding it away into his robes. 

“You said an image made of light?” Paloma prompted.

“Yes.”

“Projected into a three dimensional space?” 

“Correct.”

“So a hologram!” Paloma smiled. 

Felix stared at her, blinking. “And you know what those are?” He asked again. 

“Theoretically.” She shrugged. 

“What do you know of holograms?” He crossed his arms. 

Paloma sucked on her bottom lip. “Not a lot. Usually it’s a recording of something given the amount of...uh.” She faltered. “Complexity it takes.” 

Felix nodded, watching her closely. “Accurate. It is a fairly complex technology. Where did you read about such?” 

“Skimmed, from a book in the circles.” Paloma shrugged. Not entirely untrue. If you compared Circles to Universities. There was after all the “College” of Enchanters and Fraternities. “So I don’t really remember much on how it’s produced. Just that it exists.” 

“Well, be that as it may...it was a recording of…” Here he looked down and to the side. “Of my mother.” 

That was a bold faced lie. Paloma knew that moustache anywhere, but if she hadn’t - well. Felix sure knew how to lie, and well. “Your mother?” 

“Yes...may she rest at the Maker’s side.” 

“Oh…” She didn’t know what to add. She knew that part wasn’t a lie. 

“I’ve been reading her last research, to connect it to my own and I needed a bit of inspiration.” Felix pulled out the crystal again and set it down. “Watch…” he stepped back beside Paloma. 

The crystal emitted a sort of electrified fog. Light concentrating not in a beam as Paloma had expected, but against a film like substance in the air. Contorting it to create an image of a woman wearing tevinter robes and walking across the room. “The implications that the frequency on which our world’s politics and social structure is reflected in the fade could very well point to a either a formulaic equation, allowing for us to control what is preserved without the use of crystals or papers - or an impending environmental disaster due to the concentration of magic and emotion calling the attention of fade inhabitants-”

“Maker!” Paloma could hear the woman’s voice as clear as day. It was like a video recording but three dimensions. She could even detect some fine details in her facial movements. 

Felix stopped the crystal and smiled at the wonder in Paloma’s eyes. 

“That was your mother?” Paloma turned to Felix. “She’s amazing.”

“Yes, Magister Livia Arida. She’s…she **was**…a brilliant woman.” Felix muttered and sat at the table. 

“Hmmm.” Paloma hummed as she looked back at Felix. “Oh, let me…” She moved to the table to unload all the plates, but Felix stopped her by grabbing her hand. He pulled them aside and rubbed her knuckles.

“It’s alright. I think...that’s all I needed today.” His smile was warm, at least until he looked down at her hands - examining them. He looked like he recognized the marks. 

“Uh…” She drew her hands back. “Are you sure you need nothing else?” Paloma drew his attention back up. 

“Yes…” Felix dismissed. Paloma nodded and moved toward the door. “Ah.” He called her. “Don’t tell my father about what you saw. He’s...not been the same since her passing. I’d rather not remind him.”

“Of course.” Paloma bowed her head and left, leaving Felix alone. 

He waited, counted until twenty seconds before he rose and crossed to the door. He locked it and carefully cast a sigil to prevent sound from leaking. 

“You should have done that before.” Dorian’s voice came from the crystal and another image was projected. This time of a long time friend of Felix, attempting to lounge across boxes. Presumably, he was in the bottom of a ship.

“Yes, well I was most assuredly distracted by other news.” Felix turned back to him. “Where are you?”

“Currently?” Dorian looked around. His surroundings jostled and Dorian covered his mouth. “Being thrown about as we cross the Waking Sea no doubt.” He groaned. 

“And you didn’t think to bring a potion for the sea sickness?” Felix tutted. 

“I did.” Dorian snapped, and then sank back. “Ugh.” 

“You drank them all didn’t you?” 

“No need to remind me of my impulse control problems, especially now.” Dorian whined and settled back against the boxes. “Also, Mother? You used your mother - may she rest at the maker’s side - but you used her to lie to a servant?” 

“She’s not a servant.”

“Ah, one of those rebel mages I suppose?” Dorian asked. “Can she be trusted?”

“Let us hope so.” Felix looked at the door. 

* * *

Paloma frowned as she entered the kitchen again. Felix lied about who he was talking to. Even knowing who that person had looked like, it didn’t sting any less to know he’d lied because he wasn’t sure if he could trust her. It’s not like he knew that she knew what he was planning already, or that she was on his side - even if not actively helping him. 

Although, was it actively not helping him if she might have accidentally ruined his chances of surviving the wasting illness? 

Her gut remained twisted, like her stomach had fallen through all day and even well into preparation for the evening meal. The slave Niris arrived stating Felix will be taking dinner in the banquet hall and she was not needed, leaving Paloma feeling worse. She couldn’t assuage her guilt by how Felix looked. Not unless she wanted to enter the banquet hall. Which she couldn’t do with the amount of Magisters in there. 

So again, she was left in the kitchen chewing her nails as Clemence served a plate up. 

“Paloma, I have prepared your plate.” Clemence informed her when she didn’t look at it.

“I’m not hungry.” She muttered as she looked toward the corridor again for the fourth time in ten minutes. 

“You must eat.” Clemence insisted. 

“Sorry, just...not hungry.” Paloma sighed. 

“Are you ill?”

“No. I’ve got something on my mind.” 

“If it is the flowers, I have already attended to them.”

“No it’s not that…just.” Paloma rubbed her stomach and pressed against it to try and ease the twisted gut feeling. “I don’t feel good. I don’t think I can keep anything down.” 

Clemence grasped her shoulders and turned her to him. His neutral expression concentrated on her face. “Open your mouth, please.” 

Even though she knew it would do nothing, she did as asked. Clemence checked her teeth and mouth for sores. While he stood on his tip toes, he turned her head to each side to examine her ears and whether they were clogged or infected. He extended each of her arms and rolled up her sleeves. His fingers tracing from her wrist up to her shoulder and neck, searching for anything out of the ordinary. But when his fingers came to her neck, they slowed and grazed. 

Her pulse jumped up and she pulled back with a shudder. “Clemence…” She sighed. “I’m fine. Just sometimes I’m not hungry.” 

Clemence let go. “You did not eat your evening meal yesterday either. And you did not sleep in your bed. Though you did consume your morning and supper meals, but I noted it was not the full plate. Perhaps the stress of your recent altercations has caused your menses to occur earlier than expected?” Clemence theorized.

“Clemence!” Paloma rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’m fine. It’s not that...I’ve got something on my mind is all.” She sat down on a stool. “You don’t need to worry about it. It’ll pass…” She hoped. “Just leave it be.”

“I will, if you at least attempt to eat.” He grabbed the plate on the table and set it in front of her firmly. 

Paloma looked at the food. She’d cooked it and it did look delicious. But somehow…it felt like she didn’t deserve it. “I’ll try.” 

Clemence nodded and sat beside her. They ate silently. Paloma finished at least a quarter of her plate, which was enough to satisfy Clemence that she consumed something. He cleaned their plates. 

“If there are any other symptoms, please alert me at once. It would not do well should you succumb to illness.” Clemence stated. 

“Alright.” Paloma admitted. “I’ll let you know.”

“Now let us return to the servants quarters. It is late and we both require rest.” Clemence moved toward the door.

“Actually…” Paloma cringed. “I’m going to linger.”

Clemence turned and stared. His gaze intense with disapproval. For a long moment he was quiet before he spoke. “No.”

“No?” Paloma blinked, shocked. 

“No. You will not linger. You did not return to the servants quarters yesterday and have not been able to eat. I have little confidence that you will simply linger and will instead remain to continue working and sleep in here.” Clemence stared. “If you intend to linger, than so will I.”

“Clemence, you need your rest!”

“As do you.” He pointed. “If you intend to linger, I will as well. Resulting in both of us being denied proper rest and thus affecting our efficiency and accuracy in our work.” 

Paloma’s mouth gaped open at his tenacity. “Fine! I’ll go back to the quarters.” She huffed and walked out of the kitchens.

“Thank you.” Clemence followed after her. They were quiet the whole way back to the servants quarters. Yet before they entered, Clemence halted. “Are you displeased?”

Paloma looked back. “What?” 

“Are you displeased with my performance?” 

“You’re what?” Paloma blinked. 

“My performance as your…friend.” Clemence asked mutely. “If I have, is this why you chose to obfuscate the truth of where you slept?”

He thought she had lied because his performance as a friend was lacking. Some days tranquil were hard to understand because of the lack of emotional expression. But if you let them, they explained their thought process easily. Paloma smiled and walked back to him. She carefully pulled him into a hug. “Oh Clemence...you haven’t displeased me. You never could.” 

Paloma felt doubly bad now. First potentially poisoning Felix and now she caused Clemence to unnecessarily worry. Well it wouldn’t be so unnecessary if Felix died. She bit her lip and hugged Clemence closer at the thought. 

Clemence didn’t withdraw. Instead, like several nights ago, he wrapped his arms around her, not tight but enough she felt it. He pressed his face into her neck like last time too. She didn’t stutter now, but her cheeks and neck warmed. He took a deep breath before his face pressed right against her skin. His lips rubbed against her pulse point. 

Paloma couldn’t help the hitch in her breath before she disentangled herself from him, cheeks burning as Clemence licked his lips and seemed to shiver, no…he shuddered. 

“Ah…” Paloma looked down, trying to clear where her mind went. No. He’s tranquil. He wouldn’t know what doing that could mean. “I hope me hugging you was okay.” 

“Why would it not be?”

“Well…we never really discussed what was a good touch and what was a bad touch.” If it were possible, her cheeks would burn hotter. As it wasn’t, it merely spread to her chest where thankfully no one could see. Good touch, bad touch. Was she going to present Clemence with a doll and ask him to point to where the abusers of the Circle **didn’t** touch him? 

“Understandable.” Clemence nodded. 

“I never really asked before. I’m sorry I assumed I could-” 

“Hugging from you is not unsolicited.” Clemence cleared that up before she could continue. 

“Even without asking?”

“Yes, you use it to express your joy.”

“So I can hug you?” 

“Yes. It would be acceptable for you to do so.” Clemence nodded. 

“And it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable? Or disturb you?”

“It would not. You have no intentions to utilize my abilities in a sexual fashion or see me as such.” Clemence stated evenly. 

“Yeap,” Paloma strained through a smile. Guilt twisted further up her stomach. 

“We should retire.” Clemence gestured to the quarters. 

“Of course.” Paloma stepped into the women’s quarters and he to the men’s. She removed her apron and began scrubbing it clean in the shared bath. She didn’t get far when her hands stilled. She was guilty of thinking of Clemence sexually, or at least **not** just in a platonic manner. A guilt that wouldn’t go away easy and one she didn’t want to think too closely on. But there was a guilt she could deal with now, and should deal with now.

Paloma grabbed the jar of dried Andraste’s Grace and left to find Fiona.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Shout Out to LonelyAgain and ChocolateCatCupcakeCheese for helping make some of the scenes extra scintillating.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to the day the White Spire rebelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** Torture similar to that of Crucio'ing someone but with their phylactery.

**9:40 Dragon**

The White Spire had been tense since the First Enchanters arrived. Too tense for Paloma as she paced in her quarters. The mages in the Spire were meant to stay in their quarters while the First Enchanters and major members of the Fraternities had their conclave. But she knew what happened, what was whispered, and what will happen. 

The door to her chambers opened and in walked in Lord Seeker Lambert who all but sneered at her, until she bowed her head. 

“Lord Seeker?” 

“You are Apprentice Paloma?” 

“Yes, ser.” She kept her head down. 

“Good. The Knight Vigilant’s notes spoke highly of your ability. However, you’ve not been Harrowed.” Lambert squinted, confused.

“No, ser. I was a late bloomer into my magic and I am still studying for it.” 

This did not please him. His face pinched, teeth bared and gritted before he sighed. “Suppose that is to our benefit. You have no loyalties to any of the fraternities then?” 

“None, ser.” 

“Are you loyal to the Templars?” Lambert stepped forward, hand at the pommel of his sword. 

“Yes. The Templars are a necessary force to keep magic at bay.” 

“The Chantry?” 

“I am Andrastian.”

“That was not the question. Are you loyal to the Chantry?” Lambert stared at her. 

“I…” Paloma faltered but sighed. “I am.” 

“The Knight Vigilant wrote you will do as a Templar says?” Lambert turned his back and walked out the door. 

“I…yes.” Paloma eyed him. She didn’t like this line of questioning. Not with everything going on. 

“Good. Follow me.” He left the door open. There were other Templars near him, some regarded her suspiciously but she followed after him. They walked the corridor. Paloma close at his heel as they joined up with two other Seekers. They all wore the same black armor. They gave Paloma a once over but said nothing until they were just outside the Great Hall.

Other Templars were grouped up, ready to push through at the various entrances. 

Paloma gulped. 

“You will remain at my side.” Lambert stated. “Should any of the mages attack, you will redirect their attacks. You learned that, yes?”

“I did…but-”

“And at my order, you will attack the heretical rebel mages.”

“No.” Paloma shook her head and backed away. 

“No?” Lambert’s gaze looked severe enough, she feared he could kill with it and stepped back. 

“You disappoint me. You disappoint the Knight Vigilant.” Lord Seeker Lambert snarled. 

“I will not use my magic to kill.” Paloma backed away from the Lord Seeker. 

“A rare breed, indeed.” Lambert scoffed. “A noble mage.” 

“I’m sorry. I will not condone murder, mage or templar.” 

“Very well then. You, Ser Raina, put her with the tranquil.” He tossed Paloma toward the knight. “Once this rebellion is dealt with, she will be put through the Rite.” 

“What?” Paloma squawked. “No! No! PLEASE I’ll do anything else, Ple-” Paloma called. Knight Templar Raina dragged her down the hall with her hand firmly over Paloma’s. 

Paloma didn’t fight it as Raina tossed her into the room where the Tranquil were still working. She fell to the floor and stared up the Templar. The other tranquil remained uninvolved but they did watch. 

“Please, ser Knight. You can’t… I just want to study and be harrowed one day. To serve the Chantry and Templars however I can, peacefully and without combat.” Paloma plead. 

The Knight Templar closed the door behind her. She looked down and grinned through clenched teeth. “Do you know who I am?” 

“Ser Raina?” Paloma asked, confused why that mattered.

“Yes, but do you know who I am to you?” Raina asked as she knelt down in front of her. She pulled something from her pocket. 

“Uhh…no?”

“Do you remember Ser Gavin?” Raina asked, the item in her hand glowing bright red. 

Paloma coughed, as the veins in her neck bulged. “Wha-” Her voice twisted in pain. 

“Do. You. Remember. Ser Gavin?” Raina enunciated clearly. 

Paloma searched Raina’s face, trying to recall. Her eyes widened. 

“Ah you do. I look like him right?” Raina smiled cruel and angry. “He was my twin.” 

“Was?” Paloma strained. 

“Yes.” Raina growled. The item in her palm glowed brighter and Paloma whimpered as the veins in her arm inflamed and bulged. “He died.” She told her. “I killed him. An act of mercy really. Especially after what you did to him.” 

“I…” Paloma coughed and tried to crawl backwards. 

“Knight Raina, the Knight Vigilant has ordered all Templars to refrain from touching this particular mage-” Clemence attempted to interrupt.

“I know what the Knight Vigilant ordered, Tranquil.” She barked. “Go back to your work. All of you.” Raina turned back to Paloma. 

Paloma cried through the pain, her body collapsing to the floor. 

Raina revealed the trinket in her hand. It was a phylactery, Paloma’s phylactery. Her finger rubbed one of several runes on the metal, causing a wave of pain to race through Paloma. Her body convulsing. When Raina removed her finger, Paloma let out belly aching gasps. Tears and snot leaked as she sobbed. 

“Gavin had always been a wonderful artist, even before he joined the Templars. He used to draw the entire family, even painted our siblings’ family portrait.” Raina explained. “When he was dismissed and returned to the family no better than an invalid, he returned back to such hobbies, if only because it was the only way he could communicate.” 

Raina rubbed the phylactery. Paloma screamed this time as her muscles tensed. Veins bulging and blood leaking from her eyes. 

“But he drew only one thing.” Raina kept her finger over the phylactery longer. “One person.” She grit her teeth. “Do you want to guess who?”

“Ser Knight. I must press on the Knight Vigilant’s order again. He has ordered all away from harming this mage, for the good of the Circle.” Clemence pressed again, his hand reaching into his robe. 

Raina ignored him. 

“It was you.” Raina revealed. “Everyone assumed it was a mage he fancied. It’s not unheard of, after all. But…I’m his twin.” She removed her finger. “I knew **everything **about him.” She lowered close to Paloma who was recovering. “He only bedded men.” 

“He deserved it for what he did to the tranquil!” Paloma bit through the pain.

“So you confess-” Raina froze mid sentence. The phylactery fell from her grasp, and she fell to the floor beside Paloma. 

“By Order of Knight Vigilant Trentwatch, I have been granted the authority to use the Rune of Truth in order to boil the lyrium in a Templar’s blood to ensure the safety of Apprentice Paloma. You have ignored my warnings twice. By decree of Knight Vigilant, I request you vacate the premises or face further action.” Clemence spoke evenly while holding the Rune of Truth from his necklace. 

Raina gasped. 

Paloma crawled away, pulling her phylactery with her. Her hand alight with fire magic causing the glass to crack with the extreme heat. The blood spilled and the metal warped. Her phylactery destroyed. 

“Will you vacate these premises?” Clemence asked and relented only long enough to let Raina speak. 

“Fuck you.” Raina spat and Clemence activated the rune again. 

“Ferrier, please retrieve the yellow jasmine powders.”

“Yes, Master Clemence.” Another tranquil walked toward the supply closet and grabbed an extract.

“Please administer the extract. Ensure she swallows it all.” Clemence ordered stony faced. “Knight Templar Raina, you will pass peacefully.” 

It took several minutes, but over time, Clemence released his hold of the rune and its effect. He watched as Raina stopped moving. Once sure, he turned and faced Paloma. 

“Are you in need of healing potions?” He asked, but noted her shivering, tearing, and held back sobs. He recalled physical affection were remedies to such traumas and so reached out to her, pulling her to his shoulder where she burst into open mouthed sobs. Her tears wet his robes. 

He held her there, intending on doing so until she stopped sobbing but she pulled back. Her mouth opened in a gasp. “Clemence…we have to leave.” She cried. 

“You are hysterical. Please consider resting a moment longer.”

“No no! We have to leave! The Grand Enchanter is about to attempt to call for a vote to disband the Circles and Lord Seeker Lambert will attack.” Paloma burst out. “It’s going to be a massacre We **have **to leave.”

Clemence held her as she struggled to sit up. “Your emotions are running high due to the effect your phylactery has had on you. It will behoove you to take a moment to-”

“Damnit Clemence! Pharamond is dead!” That silenced Clemence and stilled the other tranquil. “They were going to make him tranquil again after he found the cure!”

“How do you know this?” Clemence stared at Paloma. 

“I…” Paloma faltered. “I-” She shook her head.

“Is this in the same way you knew of the events of Kirkwall’s Chantry?” 

“Y-yes.” She whispered. 

“Tell me everything you must.” He requested. 

“Some mages are going to fight, others will escape and those that are subdued will be imprisoned.” 

“What else?” 

“Of the ones escaping…it will be Archmage Wynne. Accompanied by Ser Evangeline and…a stone golem, named Shale.”

“The one who delivered the news of the Rite’s cure?”

“Yes.” Paloma swallowed. “They’re going to destroy the phylacteries. There’s going to be so much chaos and we need to take this chance to leave. You, me, all the tranquil.”

“All the tranquil?” 

“Yes! Who do you think will bear the brunt of the Templar’s ire and frustration once this is over?”

He said nothing for a long time as he met the gaze of every tranquil who had halted their work to listen to her words. 

“It won’t be safe for any of you.” She directed it at the Tranquil. Many of them looked between each other, but they all deferred back to Clemence. “Clemence!” She pled to get some kind of reaction.

“One day you will inform me of how you know this. And what you did to Ser Gavin.”

Paloma stilled, eyes closed but she nodded. “Now, while they are distracted. I…I know how to get to the pit…Clemence?” 

“No.” He silenced her with a finger to her lips, needing the quiet to think clearly. Many pieces coming together as he let her go. He moved to Knight Raina’s corpse and picked through her pouches, pulling a scroll out. It was a missive of the expected new arrivals to the spire. Including newly made Tranquil from other Circles.

At the sound of a commotion outside the door, Clemence stood. “Ferrier. Please escort Apprentice Paloma to the closet and prepare enough walnut dye.” Clemence requested.

“Yes, Master Clemence.” The young elven tranquil came forward to assist Paloma. Paloma was not in any state to fight anyone, nor would she want to. She was pushed inside a closet. “You must be silent now. Dry your tears and silence your sobs.” Ferrier explained mutely. At Paloma’s nod, he closed the closet. 

Clemence stared at the door, hearing footsteps approaching. He returned back to his work station, giving the other tranquil a nod. They took his cue and returned back to work as well. 

“Ser Raina, I require that apprentice-” Lambert stilled upon entering the room. “What happened here?” he roared and stooped low, eyeing the broken phylactery. Templars came in after him. 

“It appears the mage escaped.” A Knight Templar said. 

“Clearly!” Lambert growled. “You, tranquil why did you not aid the Templar.” 

“The Templar did not request assistance.” Clemence responded. 

“Useless.” Lambert growled and exitted. “She can’t have gone far. Quickly.” He assigned two templars to search for the ‘escaped’ mage. “Carry on your duties. You, have some dignity and move Ser Raina to the infirmary.” 

“She’s dead, ser.” Ferrier spoke. “The infirmary would be no help.”

“I know that, move her there anyway! And report anything strange immediately.” He ordered the lot of them and left the lab. 

Clemence stared at the door for a few moments. The sound of booted feet grew distant until there was none. He turned to the other tranquil. “I require only the assistance of two others.”

“I will assist you.” Ferrier spoke. Clemence nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Thank you.” 

“I will also assist.” Another with a noted Starkhaven accent spoke. 

“Alain, thank you.” Clemence acknowledged him as well. “All others, continue your duties in the lab and the tower. If you wish to spread the knowledge you have gleaned here to the Templars, I will not hold it against you, as you likely have a good reason to do so. Otherwise, please inform the other Tranquil of the tower to be aware there will be intruders.” Clemence spoke evenly, plainly, and without preamble. He did not demand any of their loyalty, leaving it up to their own observable logic to make their decision. 

He sent Alain to retrieve a few items from the Formari and had Ferrier retrieve a set of tranquil robes. With everything collected, he approached the closet. 

Paloma was inside, her head tucked between her knees and eyes screwed shut. 

Clemence stared at his charge. The Knight Vigilant had made it very clear what his duty was. Protect Paloma from trespass and document every oddity. Which he has accomplished, to excess, at first. 

If the Circles were indeed rebelling, he would have to correct that mistake. 

He touched her shoulder. Her body stiffened but as she looked up, she saw only him and it melted. She trusted him, implicity. 

“Come.” He held his hand out and drew her from the closet and toward the smaller laboratory room. They had to be quick. 

He set the beaker down of a dark black liquid that Ferrier had prepared. 

“You are aware a naturally born attunement causes one’s hair and eye color to change?” Clemence questioned. 

“Yes…” Paloma croaked. 

“There are ways to nullify or remove such changes with practice. But as we do not have the time to instill five more years worth of magical education into you, we will simply temporarily nullify.” He explained. “Many believe the opposing element to fire is water. But the inferno attunement uses fire as it’s calling to be recognizable, it is not actually the study of fire. It is the study of heat. It’s antithesis would be the absence of it. We do not wish to extinguish your heat, merely to…suffocate it until it is needed.” 

“So…earth?”

“Precisely.” Clemence nodded and held out three small gemstones. Pyrite, obsidian, and smoky quartz. Each one had a blue line through it. “These gemstones were mined near a vein of lyrium. Their natural properties are enhanced. Keep them on your person. They will ground you.”

Paloma grabbed the three gemstones and Clemence observed the effect. Her hair was no longer as brilliantly silver, but had a dull platinum blonde coloring. Her eyes, however, drastically changed from the vibrant golden hazel to a dark murky earthen color. Her skin was just as affected. No longer did her skin have a sun like sheen, instead it dulled. 

It was a look he only saw on her after a Templar’s spell purge. 

“As suspected, your hair color is still too bright.” Clemence nodded. He touched the beaker of dye and rolled his sleeves up. “We will have to re-color your hair. Remove your robes.” He commanded mutely.

“Wha-” Paloma jolted. But there was no time, he quickly unbuttoned her robes and pulled. She complied, her face alight in heat. She shivered, standing before him in her smalls. 

“Sit.” He pointed to a stool. 

With prudent obedience she sat with her wide gaze on him, watching. He lathered his hands in an oil to prevent staining and applied the same to her forehead, nape of her neck, and around her ears. Using only his fingers, he applied the dye. Combing it through her tresses until the blonde became a sandy.

“I will require you to use your heat magic only enough to dry.” He stated, stepping back to wash his hands. She did as he instructed, allowing him to run a comb through her hair and braid it intricately to wrap around her head. “Dress.” He held the new robes to her. They were Tranquil robes. 

“Why are you disguising me?”

“The Templars will be searching for you among the other mages. If we are to keep your presence from them, you cannot be as you are. You must become as invisible as a Tranquil.” Clemence pulled one last item from the bundle. A long metal stick with the sunburst brand on the other end of it. He set it in the hearth to warm.

Paloma’s eyes widened with fear. “Clemence…”

“I need you to remain perfectly still.” He spoke with no inflection or hint of his intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an evil mistress sometimes with my cliffhangers. So I will diffuse the horror of that cliffhanger by giving you ONE spoiler. No, he's not going to brand her. He's going to make a fake brand to apply to her forehead with wax. So rest easy. I just had to pick a good spot to end because the chapter was getting too long again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion of the Flashback to the day the White Spire rebelled.

**9:40 Dragon **

Clemence climbed up the tower toward the Knight Vigilant’s office. His expression even yet determined. The tower was silent now that the Lord Seeker had controlled the rebellion in the great hall. There were bodies that were being tended to, wrapped to be sent to the pyre. Those subdued were imprisoned in the dungeons. All the rest of the tower was locked away, except for the Tranquil. As the tranquil were the ones handling the cleaning of the mess and the usual day to day. The Templars left them alone as they had no worry that the Tranquil would ever take any action against them.

A foolhardy outlook. 

He stepped onto the landing and crossed toward the doors. The Templars, Marel and Henrie, guarded the door. Not ideal.

“Even with all the mess of the mages, you tranquil are so consistent.” Marel smiled. 

“A delay in our work will help no one.” Clemence stated. “I will require entry. The Knight Vigilant requested I duplicate specific records to send to the Seekers.” 

One of the Templar guards nodded, and moved to open the office, giving Clemence entry. He entered.

“And her?” 

Clemence looked behind him at a brown eyed and brown haired sunburst brand wearing disguised Paloma. She held a basket lined with cushions. Her face neutral, unaffected, and almost bored. Though her gaze flicked to each of the Templars, it returned to Clemence. 

“She will be assisting me in carrying the records safely to the scribe.” Clemence explained and carried forward into the room. 

He counted on being able to be alone in the Knight Vigilant’s office, but the Templars followed them in. 

Clemence was wary of his presence yet proceeded to pull scrolls from the Knight Vigilants shelves and books. They had only so long to complete this before joining the other Tranquil in preparations. He set the scrolls in the basket Paloma held out.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this one before.” Henrie mused. 

“She has newly been given the Brand.” Clemence explained but did not stop grabbing scrolls. He checked them to ensure their content before setting them with the others. 

“Hmm…” Henrie sounded pleased. “So the tower hasn’t used her up yet.”

“She might even be untouched.” Marel chuckled. 

Clemence looked at Paloma. Her expression was even, she yet remained still. The only indication of the effect of their words being the tightening of her grip on the basket. 

The Templars stood aside, watching as she followed him so he could set each scroll. When Clemence grabbed the last set of scrolls and set them in the basket, he placed a hand on Paloma’s shoulder. “Please return to the scribe’s office with these.” 

Clemence turned toward the books he had set aside, intending on grabbing them and following after Paloma, but the sound of metal armor stilled him. 

“Halt tranquil…” Henrie spoke as he circled around Paloma. 

Clemence opened a book to appear to be looking over the records. 

“Look at that.” Marel whistled as Henrie pulled the basket from her grasp and set it aside. “Why don’t you stand here.”

Clemence watched as Paloma was guided to one of the shelves. “Put your hands there, good.” 

“Tranquil are so much more obedient than the mages.” Henrie pushed Paloma’s legs apart and raised her robes and under robes to reveal her legs. 

“True, but something satisfying about training the mages to submit like this. This is just… well almost boring.” Marel mused. 

“Think the Lord Seeker will allow us a reprieve from our post to attend to the mages?” Henrie asked. 

“Enchanter Adrian is amongst those in the dungeons.” Marel noted.

“Oooh, that red hair. She’s got quite a spit back.” Henrie sighed and then turned back to Paloma, pulling her hips out. “Hmmm…” He cupped Paloma between her thighs. “She’ll do until then.”

Clemence reached into his robe the moment he saw Paloma’s hair begin to lighten. The dye burning off and falling in small flecks of ash. 

Marel sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?” 

“Smell what?” Henrie looked at him until a great rumbling was felt several times. As though the whole Tower was being struck.

“Explosion?” Marel gulped, drawing his sword. 

And then the sound of distant glass, shelves and pillars of it shattering and falling. 

“The phylactery chamber!” Henrie swore and also drew his sword. “You two, stay put.” He barked and ran out of the Knight Vigilant’s office. 

When they were alone, Clemence crossed and closed the door. Paloma had been right. They would destroy the phylacteries. He looked back to her to find she had crumpled to her knees, shoulders hunched. He approached and she looked up at him. Tears streamed down her face, her bottom lip trembled.

“Did…” Her voice was small and barely above a whisper. “Did I do well?” 

“Yes.” He stooped low. Her body shook as she finally broke. Her emotional well being was too delicate. He could not ask her to deal with a situation such as this again. “It was regrettable it came to that. But you did very well.” 

She was sobbing, pulling her robe up to cover her tears. Thankfully due to her tears from earlier, her eyes had already appeared red and puffy. So allowing her to cry would not endanger them. But…

Clemence reached out a hand to her shoulder. And as before, drew her close to him. It calmed some of her tears, even if she still wailed into his shoulder. She recovered much faster. 

“We will have to be quick, if that was truly the phylactery chamber being destroyed.” He spoke. 

Palmoa’s breath hitched but she nodded. He helped her up and she pushed her robes back down. 

“Wh-why did we need these records?” Paloma asked as she grabbed the basket and he the stack of books. 

Clemence stilled. He could not explain the whole reason without earning her suspicion. But he could give partial. “These contain all requests for mages of specific talents to be brought to the Spire.” 

That confused her, but there was little time to explain. They descended back down the stairs and to the lab. There were more tranquil there now. As those that came with the First Enchanters of other circles were herded there to assist. The Formari were there as well as the kitchen staff Tranquil. 

Clemence stared at them all, resolute in his decision to grab the scrolls. He set the stack of books down as Ferrier and Alain came up. 

“Pass those to the aforementioned name on the scroll.” Clemence instructed as he gave them the basket. 

Clemence moved toward the center of the room for all to hear. 

“I have retrieved all records on current tranquil residing in the White Spire. The circumstances behind why you were brought to the spire are detailed, along with any extra reasons or requests from specific Templars.” Clemence announced. “Please read at your own discretion and decide what your course of action will be in lieu of the events of the Grand Hall.” 

The basket was near empty. The last of which was Clemence’s. Yet he did not need to read his. He knew what his said. Instead he gave it to Paloma. The room was silent as scrolls were opened. 

Paloma opened Clemence’s scroll.

“It is at the Circle of Antiva City’s discretion that though Apprentice Clemence, has shown remarkable control over his magical talents and natural affinity, we hereby submit his submission to the Rite of Tranquility on…” Paloma looked up at Clemence. “On special request for their talent in…physical comforts by Knight Commander Renard of Ansburg.” 

Clemence was unblinking as others around began to read theirs more thoroughly.

“According to these records, my rite was submitted due to poor emotional stability. The cited example being, she talks back too much.”

“I was made tranquil as my inheritable appearance would make for…physically desirable mages.”

“I hope you are all in agreement that these are not logical reasons for the Rite.” Clemence spoke. “Some of you will have logical reasons…”

“By request, I was made tranquil.” Spoke one tranquil.

“And most others, will not.” 

“I was made tranquil by request of Knight Templar Gavin.” Ferrier muttered. “For his curiosity of young elven abilities of comfort.” 

Other reasons were spoken. One scroll cited simply someone’s mouth shape, another was a rather crude description of their rear end. There were legitimate reasons among them but most had phrases such as magically dangerous to themselves or potential to incite dissent among mages. All stated in vague terms. The true reasons were clear behind their smoke screen.

“If a Circle is to be successful, and the rite to be used logically, the mages will need aid in their endeavor.” Clemence stated.

“And what action should we take to thwart the Templars?” A formari spoke now. 

“Strict Malicious Compliance.” Clemence stated. This was logical to the crowd of tranquil. They understood and nodded. “Now, return to your duties. But if you wish to join the mages in their escape…prepare.” Clemence stepped away from the center toward the stack of books he’d brought down. 

The entire exchange had been the calmest and coolest toned note of outrage. Yet the atmosphere was one of anticipation. 

“Clemence?” Paloma approached him. “You wanted to make sure the tranquil were on the mages side? Why?”

Clemence looked up from his books. “The tension and noted offenses the Templars and Seekers have committed have risen. It was your detailed account of Kirkwall that made the Knight Vigilant recruit more Templars and thus rose tensions in the Spire.”

“But…I never told the Knight Vigilant about Kirkwall.” Paloma frowned. “I only…wrote it in my journal.” Her frown deepened as she connected what must have happened.

Clemence would have faltered, if he hadn’t become resolute. “I shared with him copies of your accounts.” He admitted. “But…over time…” He sought for the words, reaching for her hand to denote meaning to what he was about to say. “It became prudent I keep your future knowledge quiet once you demonstrated your loyalty and preference.” 

Paloma flushed, intending on responding but a tranquil, one with noticeably higher quality robes approached Clemence. 

“I am Tyfen of Montsimmard. I traveled with Grand Enchanter Fiona.” She stated. 

“Do you support her call for a vote?” Clemence asked.

“I do not.” 

“Please explain.” 

“By doing as you suggest, we put ourselves into the care of the Mages, whom just as readily made trespass and abuses against us.”

“I am aware they have.” Clemence responded. 

“Then how can we condemn ourselves to a similar state of being? How is assisting the mages more prudent than ensuring the Templars cull the situation at hand?” Tyfen waited, staring Clemence down quietly. 

Clemence blinked. “When mages make trespass, do they not tend to our injuries?”

“Some do, but most do not.” Tyfen offered. “Of those that do, the frequency is no different than the Templars.” 

“But at least Mages aren’t the ones making excuses for the Rite.” Paloma spat from her spot. 

Tyfen looked to her. “You are no tranquil.”

“No. I’m disguised as one.” Paloma stated and rubbed the wax brand on her forehead. She peeled it off and let it drop to the table.

“Are you suggesting that because your ilk do not make excuses for the rite, that alone should be reason why we assist in their rebellion?” Tyfen blinked. 

“…” Paloma worked that question through. “Yes?” 

“And should the mages become like the Templars? Their behavior worsened due to the accumulated power they have gained. What then?”

Paloma gaped unable to answer that. “I…” She floundered. Clemence spied her anger and frustration teetering, but she did well to control it. He clenched her hand and she looked down, having forgotten they were still joined. 

“We do not implore you to act on the basis the situation will improve. Nor do we implore you without acknowledging it may even worsen.” Clemence stepped in. “But there is only one logical conclusion. It is impossible for it to stay the same. Not after today.” Clemence continued. “It is all a matter of, do you wish to sit obediently by or have a hand in the changes to come?” 

Tyfen looked back to the other Tranquil who had traveled in. Many of them nodding. They would take her lead.

“Very well. We will assist.” 

* * *

There were still a few who would not assist, but they were few and far between. Many of the tranquil were dismissed to their duties, yet Clemence remained behind in the lab with Paloma beside him, quieter than usual. Though he did not blame her. Today had been an eventful day. Between the phylactery and then the harassment in the Knight Vigilant’s office, he could see it weighed on her, emotionally drained her. Yet she sat beside him, their hands yet still intertwined. 

Ah, perhaps he was entrapping her? He released her hand.

She looked up at the loss, wide eyed and confused. “Oh…uh…” her cheeks reddened and she looked down. 

“You should rest.” He stated. “We need to be ready to move quickly.” 

“Oh…” She looked around the lab. “Can I sleep beside you?” 

“It will not be comfortable.” He stated. “But do as you will.” 

She nodded, pulling up a chair and sat next to him. Her head rested in her arms as she watched him. 

“What are in those books anyway? More records of tranquil?” 

“No.” Clemence stated. He would not obfuscate the truth on this. “These are all my notes of you to the Knight Vigilant.” He turned another page.

“What?” She perked up and looked down, reaching for one. 

He halted her. “These documents date back to when you first arrive.” He warned her. “They do not paint you in a favourable light, initially.” 

Paloma stared at them, weighing her options. “Then why are you reading them?” 

“I wish to refresh my memory on all the Knight Vigilant knows of you. He took an illogical and unnecessary close interest in your development. When I reported less of your future knowledge, it seemed to wane. Yet he continued to require detailed reports every week.” He explained. “Once I am done, I will destroy them.” 

She nodded, pleased until, “Why did you stop reporting on that?” 

Clemence was stricken still. He did not need to verify what she meant. He knew she meant the future knowledge. He looked down at the pages before him. Why had he? He knew very well why. 

The sentiment behind his next words required more. He could not express it properly facially nor - as he suspects - feel it properly, so he did what he could. He grabbed her hand, holding it between both of his and met her gaze.

“Your friendship came to be worth more to me, then my loyalty to the Circle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more for this flashback, but it's unrelated to what I wanted to show. So we'll likely see it continue later. Next chapter will go back to the present.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the present, Paloma wakes up in an unfamiliar room, again.

Paloma jolted awake on a cushioned couch in a warm room that was filled with magically tinkling machines, distillation systems, and numerous plants. There was a table stacked high with scrolls and books on previous Blights and studies of the taint that had the Grey Warden Seal on the side.

She tilted her head, attempting to read them. But it had been some time since she read something in her first language. Ander was archaic, similar to Old English. She took her time to figure it out. The first book was translated loosely to something like: “Taint Strains, a Study of Spawn Mutations”. The second was “Comprehensive Study of the Effect of the Taint on Different Peoples”. The last book which appeared the most preserved, “The Effect of Time Magic on the Calling”.

“What?” Paloma gaped at the last one, grabbing it and opening it. It wasn’t a book, but a journal written in a language she did not know. It was almost Arabic. Her fingers traced over them. She turned to the first page and then noticed the cover was merely a leather one on top of the hardcover copy. The actual hardcover had the same Arabic-like language. “What language is this?” 

“Elvhen.” Came the cool response from behind a magical machine that twisted large clear magnifying quartz with the wave of Fiona’s hand. “Good morning.” She stepped around and grabbed Paloma’s jar of Andraste’s Grace. 

“Elvhen?” Paloma asked. “But…only the Dalish know the language.” 

“If you believe that, then you’re a fool.” Fiona removed a few scoops into a glass beaker, watching as it came to a boil. Once it did she added a miniscule amount of blue powder. “Raw ground lyrium drastically increases the potency of Andraste’s Grace, by the way.” She took a sample of the water, setting it on a quartz slide and setting it besides the magnifying one. She twisted it and observed the liquids on one slide, in comparison to another. The crystals of ground lyrium were easy to see. Though one slide, the blue one, had drastically more than the other. 

Paloma shook her head and set the book back on the stack. “How long was I asleep?” 

“Only a few hours.” Fiona explained. “I must say, this drastically changes my approach to treating Felix.” She muttered as she compared the two slides. 

“Oh?” 

“Yes. Watch.” She moved to another beaker, grabbing a sample of darkspawn flesh with a single swab and tapped each slide. “This slide is using raw ground lyrium. And the other is your sample, using lyrium dust, which is not quite as pure as the Chantry believes. It’s of a lesser quality and cut with elfroot dust, hence it’s pink coloring. But look, see how the darkspawn flesh appears to lose it’s blackened and purple coloring?” 

“Yes!” Paloma approached. 

“That is only briefly though. It takes a few moments, but…” Fiona gestured as the two slides slowly stopped improving the coloring of the flesh. The one with the pink lyrium dust reverted much faster than the other. 

“Oh…” Paloma deflated. 

“Do not frown, this is good news.” Fiona chided but Paloma didn’t perk up.

“How is this good news?”

“This was the serum using **only** Andraste’s Grace.” She pointed out.

Paloma’s expression was blank. “So?”

Fiona blinked, and took a moment to ponder exactly how did Paloma stumble upon a boon to her research.

“Let me put it this way.” Fiona tapped her lips. “I had been aware these wildflowers existed. They are used by Kinloch Hold as a boost to one’s humors. To increase one’s resistance to the Blight.” Fiona waited to ensure Paloma understood. 

“Okay…if you knew, why didn’t you use them before?” 

“Because much like elfroot and dandelions are used to increase one’s resistance to the plague, they are not however used to treat one who is afflicted with the plague.” Fiona added. 

Paloma blinked. So it was like taking vitamin C supplements to help prevent the cold but once you’ve got the cold, you didn’t just continue taking vitamin C. You switched to medicine. “Oh!” Paloma exclaimed. “Okay I get it!”

“So I never thought Andraste’s Grace could be used to treat someone with the Blight.” Fiona tapped her lips. “I admit I am no medical alchemist, but even I can see their merits now. Especially given what I observed in Felix. And considering he is only suffering the wasting illness associated with it."

“So does that…increase his chances?” Paloma asked.

“It is too soon to say.” Fiona muttered. “But…it is more hopeful than before.” 

“Oh thank the maker.” Paloma sat back down with a relieved sigh. 

“Well, don’t give him all the credit.” Fiona joked. 

“Right sorry, didn’t mean to downplay your work.” 

“Yes, well I will have to see how it incorporates with my other serums…” Fiona muttered, already formulating a plan. “I will say, this information would have been more helpful the day of the botched tea so I could examine the differences more closely.”

Paloma grimaced. “Sorry.” 

“But you did come to me eventually.” Fiona softened and approached. “You say you and Clemence are attempting to replicate the growing conditions for the flower?”

“Yes, though there is a spot in Old Redcliffe where it grows.” Paloma added. “I wasn’t aware of it until…until Felix brought me flowers he found there.” She admitted and looked down.

“He brought you flowers?” One of Fiona’s delicate eyebrows rose.

“I-yes?” Paloma’s cheeks burned. 

“That’s is certainly…fortunate. Will you be reciprocating his advances?” Fiona treaded carefully, expression neutral to show she was not expecting any answer. 

“Advances?” Paloma blinked. 

“A nobleman does not simply give flowers easily and without thought. Especially one from Tevinter. There is a certain expectation in it.” Fiona explained. 

“What expectation?” Paloma frowned at Fiona. 

“I do not mean to alarm you but…” Fiona sighed. “An expectation of certain services performed.” At Paloma’s blank face she added more bluntly. “Sex, my dear.”

“What?! But he assured me he wouldn’t!” Paloma panicked. 

“So you’ve discussed it with him?”

“Yes!” Paloma warbled. 

“Was it before or after he gave you flowers?”

“Before!”

“Oh dear…” Fiona tutted. 

“It was when his father insinuated I-I- was **pleasing** him.” 

“This is precisely why I wanted no elven mages to be near the Magisters.” 

“I’m not an elf!” Paloma snapped. 

Fiona pursed her lips but said nothing to that. "If he does expect what I suspect…you have a choice to make.”

“Choice?” 

“You can either accept his advances. Play to his ego and ensure he say nothing to his father that could jeopardize my negotiations.” 

Paloma gulped.

“Or decline. Which I would not blame you for doing. Or hold it over you, should you chose.” 

Paloma paled. What if the reason Gereon switched to military recruitment is because of her? What if he could secure citizenship or indentured servitude if his son was not only cured but happy, even if momentarily. She had no guarantee the Inquisition would even come to Redcliffe either. 

“Do not decide now. But…keep it in mind should he present you with flowers again.” Fiona patted her shoulder.

“They were pretty too.” Paloma mumbled. 

“Hmm?”

“The flowers. He gave me Andraste’s Grace.”

“Oh my.” Fiona blinked. “That is entirely serendipitous. For him to provide you with the flowers that may help treat him…” She tutted, recalling something in her memory. Fiona squinted at Paloma. There had been reports the Montsimmard Circle had received regarding a late blooming mage. It was shared from Knight Commander to Knight Commander. She only just managed to receive such information. But…it couldn’t be Paloma, could it? “I will have to examine the location. Old Redcliffe you say?”

“Yes. By the old general store. It’s a large dead wood.” Paloma rubbed her arm.

“And, if you would provide me with the flowers he gave you so I may test the potency of dried to non?”

“Of course.” Paloma nodded. “Anything you need.” 

“Additionally, I wish to be informed of yours and Clemence’s experiment.” Fiona added. 

“Yes.”

“Now…should you not be going?” Fiona pointed out.

“Going?”

“It is quite past the time the start of morning banquet.” 

“Maker!” Paloma stumbled up. Fiona laughed at her as she ran to the door. “I’m sorry Grand Enchanter, I must go!” 

“I sent word you would be late.” Fiona called but that only made Paloma pull her shoes on faster. Fiona watched as she left and then faced the magnifying quartz with a renewed confidence. Treating - nay **curing** Felix would solidify their position in Tevinter. 

* * *

Paloma attempted to do her braid while running as her hair was a mess from sleeping on a couch, but it ended up messier, so she let it loose. Her booted feet pounded the path harder as she ran through the corridors of the castle, ducking to just outside the castle walls. It was a long way around but she wouldn’t be drawing attention to herself by having to duck around people. Tying her apron tighter and hiking her robes up, she took off. She cursed herself for never learning how to fade step to make this easier. 

Yet the more she ran, the more her lungs felt lighter, the more her leg muscles burned, and the happier she felt.

When had been the last time she ran, not for her life. But because she was late? Or because she liked it? Or, maker, because she wanted to exercise. Being locked up in the Circles prevented that, but now she was free of it. She could run. She could-

She turned the castle corner too fast and near careened down the hill toward the lake. 

“Maker!” She managed to catch herself and fell. Perhaps, she admitted to herself. Perhaps learning coordination and pivoting would be helpful. And perhaps some proper running shoes. She eyed her boots and stood, brushing the dirt off as best she could. She fixed her apron and took off at a dead sprint again with a laugh. She slowed as she approached the outside kitchen entrance. 

“It is unusual for Paloma to be this late. If she did not sleep in her bed last night and there was no sign of her this morn, something may have happened. I will have to inform the Grand Enchanter-” Clemence spoke to Helisma as he exited. 

Paloma grinned, stopping in front of them. “Hey!” She waved. 

Clemence eyed her, looking up and down at her appearance. 

“Sorry I’m late.” She panted. Perhaps she was projecting but the way Clemence squinted at her, he looked annoyed. 

“You are filthy and late.” He stated and turned back into the kitchen. 

“Filthy?” Paloma looked down at herself and blanched. There was still a lot of dirt. And even some mud too. “Oh Shoot!” She shook the dirt off but there was nothing she could do about the mud without water. 

She darted to the water pump to clean up, but a loud clatter behind her pulled her attention. 

She watched Clemence all but slam a plate onto a tray with a serving of tea and fruit. His expression as neutral as ever but there was a tightness to his shoulders and his gaze remained focused. 

“Clemence?” Paloma asked. 

“Banon, please perform a cleansing spell on Paloma.” Clemence ignored her. “So she may be presentable to deliver the magister’s breakfast.” He went back to his position cutting up a pig for a roast. 

“Did…” Paloma sank when Clemence didn’t look her way. 

Banon clicked his tongue against his teeth at the tension before turning to Paloma. “Come on…” he pulled her back outside with a bowl of water. 

“What happened?” Paloma whispered once they were alone outside. Banon cast the water to remove the mud and dirt she missed. 

“Well you were late. He asked if anyone had seen you. Said we had to adjust to be more efficient.” He explained. 

“Oh no.”

“That’s a sure fire way to anger - in so much as you can anger them - a tranquil. Make them inefficient in their duties.” Banon shook his head. 

“I know that. But…we function just fine with less.”

“Only because you and Clemence have the largest amount of responsibilities.” Banon sighed. “Hmm. Nothing to be done for your hair except…” he cast the water up with a spell, dampening her hair and removing any dirt. “There best get going. We’ve got to begin preparations for supper don’t we?”

“Alright.” Paloma walked into the kitchen. 

Helisma was at Paloma’s usual spot by the hearth, carefully removing Orlesian styled quiches. These were for the mage’s mess hall. The Magister banquet having already begun. 

Banon went back to his fruit cutting station. But Clemence was paging through the books, calculating what next they would have to put a request in for. 

“Clemence?” She muttered, stopping opposite him. He stilled, but didn’t look up. She reached out a hand to touch him. “I’m sorry-”

“The Magister is waiting for his breakfast.” He pulled his hand away and turned away from her. His disappointment evident in that action.

Paloma felt him pull away in her chest. It left a sinking helpless feeling in her. She sighed, grabbed the tray and ascended the steps. Plucking three grapes, she handed it to Niris on her pass through. 

With a breath to quell the sadness, she knocked on Felix’s door. This time, opting to wait. 

But there was no response.

She looked down the hall at Niris who was quiet.

Paloma knocked again and listened closely. 

“Is your master in?” Paloma asked. 

“Yes.” Niris responded, but said nothing else. 

She knocked again, pressing her ear to the door to see if she heard anything. But nothing. 

What if she **had** poisoned Felix? And it only just now hit him? Her breath hitched, eyes wide. She was half way about to drop the tray and run for Fiona when Felix opened the door and stared at her overly exasperated. 

“Well are you going to come in? You seemed to think you could barge in whenever you wished before.” Felix spoke shortly.

“I-” Paloma reeled back, shocked as Felix turned from her and walked into the room. Her mouth opening and closing as her panic settled and she followed him in with the door closing behind her. “I am sorry about the intrusion yesterday, milord.” The milord came out entirely too sarcastic but if he was going to be like that, then she would drop all pleasantries. Her poor mood made worse by his tone. 

Felix frowned when she didn’t meet his playful banter, until she took on a sarcastic tone. Perhaps he’d been too realistic? He licked his lips as he faced her. Her head bowed and shoulders squared. 

“Will you be having breakfast on the table or in bed.”

Felix despaired as her tone took on a clipped edge. He gestured to the table. She moved quickly and swiftly and made to leave the room with no preamble.

“I certainly hope you will not be barging in again.” He pitched a smile, to lessen the blow but she wasn’t looking his way. 

“I will **not,** milord. I will wait until you call.” She ground through her teeth. 

“Well good.” Felix tapped his fingers thinking of something more obviously funny. It required throwing his ego to side, but he never had much of that to begin with. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of…” His cheeks burned. “Of you seeing me as bare as the day of my Andrastening.” 

Paloma opened her mouth and then looked at him, the way his lips twitched with a smile and yet his cheeks flushed prettily. He was trying to be funny! She breathed in sharp, turned to the door with a begrudging smile. She thought over his words and then smirked. “Well, to be fair, milord.” She spoke slowly with a terse tone. “That time you **did **invite me in when I knocked.” 

That broke the tension between them. Felix chuckled while Paloma’s shoulders shook. 

“I truly believed you had been my father.” He grinned, relieved her playful tone was back. He’d been worried after his dismissal yesterday that she would change her tone. Perhaps lace it with pity after his excuse of whom he was viewing in the crystal.

“If milord desires, we can recreate the scene and I would be more than happy to barge in on you wearing naught but a washcloth.” Paloma batted her lashes playfully at him. “If only so milord can hold it over me another time.” 

Felix’s throat dried at the notion, face and neck burning. 

Paloma’s answering grin was the last he saw as she turned and left with a laugh. Her good mood now solidly returned. 

“Maker’s sake…” He sighed as he pulled his collar loose and swallowed. 

Paloma left his room with a snicker and almost passed Niris. 

“You often leave my master’s room smiling.” Niris stated. 

“He’s funny, so…yes.” Paloma stated. “Is he kind to you?” 

“Master Felix is.” Niris looked toward Felix’s door.

“Just Felix?” Paloma frowned. 

“Yes.” 

Paloma gave Niris a sad smile and excused herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to cut this chapter in two so I selected a somewhat sad spot to end - for Niris anyway.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma continued to be ignored by Clemence, until it reaches a head. Then she falls asleep in Felix's presence.

Back in the kitchens, Paloma returned to a quiet tension. She slunk to Helisma’s station and began cutting vegetables for supper, keeping her head down. A few times she peered up at Clemence, but he ignored her presence. Never once looked her way or met her gaze. He was entirely focused on the task. 

There was nothing quite like the silent disapproval and disappointment of a Tranquil. People who were unable to show any facial emotion or - supposedly - feel any. It became as though you didn’t exist once you gained such negative opinions from one of them. 

It was damning and shaming for Paloma. Especially paired with the kitchen quiet of their usual chatter. Only the sound of cutting, stirring, washing, and the occasional sip and taste of the food. 

Supper was almost ready to be served when Keili returned from the farm with the last of the day’s buckets of milk to settle for the day to the next day. 

“Ah. Paloma, you arrived.” She stated. It was the first words spoken since Paloma came back from serving Felix breakfast. 

“Yes.” She sniffed as she cut onions. It was a little sloppier than normal so the fumes were getting to her. Her vision blurring. She wiped at her eyes using her wrists and kept going. 

“I was unsure when you would arrive as Grand Enchanter Fiona did not specify, only that you would be late.” Keili spoke.

The sound of a ladle scraping the pot stopped. Paloma peered up to see Clemence had turned to face Keili. “The Grand Enchanter sent word Paloma would be late?” Clemence queried.

“Yes.” Keili recalled. 

“You neglected to leave word of this.” Clemence stated.

“What is the protocol for such things?”

“All words of delay should be pinned to our board.” Clemence looked at the board that also contained Felix’s tea instructions. 

“Of course, Clemence.” Keili nodded and resumed taking the buckets of milk down to the cellar. 

“You visited the Grand Enchanter?” Clemence asked. 

“Yes.” Paloma answered mutely, keeping her head down. She didn’t elaborate further, keeping to herself instead. She was tempted to look up at Clemence, but she knew the expression would be the same. Neutral, inquisitive maybe, but a tenseness in his shoulders. 

“Hmmm.” He turned back to his task. 

Banon looked between them and let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh would you two just kiss and makeup already!”

Paloma’s hands shook at the word kiss and sliced her finger. “Tcchhsssss.” She sucked in a breath. The pain distracting her from the embarrassment. 

“Honestly today has been dreadfully boring without anyone talking. Never thought I’d say that about tranquil, but truly can we all just get along again?” Banon grumbled. 

“I suppose we could discuss something topical.” Helisma piped up. 

“Yes! Thank you, Helisma! Go ahead.” Banon turned to her. 

“I awoke early this morning to feed the Arl’s prized mabari, as he left them in my care. When I noticed a curious sight of a certain mage releasing a raven-” Helisma spoke. 

“How about a different topic.” Banon interrupted before Helisma could continue. “We got a new shipment of capsicums. Huh? That will make some interesting new dishes for the Vints? Right Paloma?”

Banon, Helisma, and Clemence looked to her. 

“Huh?” Paloma stared wide eyed and shoved her hand in her apron. She tucked her finger under her thumb to slow the bleeding. “Uh…yeah yeah.” 

“You alright there?” Banon asked. 

“Yes, just…these onions are getting to me. I-I think I need fresh air.” She dropped the knife and walked out of the kitchen. 

“She looks exhausted.” Banon told Helisma. 

“Yes. She has not received adequate amounts of rest the last few days.” Clemence muttered. “Banon, please continue serving supper.” He walked outside. 

The cool afternoon breeze was a welcome difference to the heat of the kitchen. He looked around for Paloma, unable to find her until he heard a low hiss and the smell of burning. Clemence followed to find Paloma holding her hands out. One aglow in heat and the other bleeding steadily. Her apron pockets splattered in blood from inside the pockets. She held the aglow hand out, wincing and looking away as she attempted to use her innate attunement to cauterize the cut. 

“Paloma.” He grasped the wrist of her glowing hand, halting her movements and simultaneously burning himself. She yanked it away in horror. 

“Clemence!” She yelped. The fire in her hand disappeared. She turned his hand over to make sure there was no excessive burning. Short of a few blisters, there was nothing. 

“Ah…” He looked at his hand. 

“You idiot! You should have just grabbed your runes to stop me!” She hissed.

“You should not have attempted to cauterize your cut. It is clean and will heal with poultice.” He explained back in turn. 

“Then we’re both fools.” Paloma growled. “Back inside, I need water and you need to bandage that.” 

“A moment.” 

“Oh yes, let us wait a moment while I bleed out! Or your blisters burst!”

“Paloma.” He pulled her back, staring intently at her. 

She gulped and met his gaze. 

The two of them silent for a few seconds. Paloma felt shame at the back of her neck. Clemence felt the need to remove the unsettled twist in his stomach.

“I apologize for being clipped with you.” 

“Yeah, well I’m sorry for not telling you where I’d be.”

“You are forgiven.”

“Are we okay?” Paloma asked with a hopeful smile. Clemence loosened his shoulder muscles and nodded. 

“Yes, we are…as you would say, good.” Clemence stated. 

They returned back to the kitchen. 

“What has occurred to cause injury on both of you?” Helisma asked as she retrieved a bucket of water. Banon was finishing the last of the bowls, curiously looking at them.

“Stubbornness.” Paloma explained with a sheepish smile.

“Miscommunication.” Clemence corrected. 

“Hmm.” Helisma aided in cleaning, applying poultice, and wrapping bandages. 

They resumed their duties in much lighter spirits. Though Paloma still struggled the rest of the day. Her vision blurring as she cut vegetables for the evening meal. Her movements slower as she had to focus more. 

There wasn’t much time for Clemence to check on her, so he hoped if something was truly wrong she would speak up. 

That proved incorrect as she halted moving all together. Her shoulders slumped. 

“Paloma’s asleep.” Banon snorted. 

“Wha-No!” Paloma blinked and carried on. “Just zoned out for a moment.” She blinked rapidly and sniffed. 

Clemence said nothing, instead he formulated a plan. 

They took a tea break while the evening meal cooked, Clemence left Helisma in charge while he went back to the servants quarters. Paloma barely registered him leaving as she sipped at her tea half way asleep between each sip. Eventually, Helisma had to grab her cup else she’d drop it and guided Paloma to resting her head on the table. 

“It’s a wonder how vulnerable she lets herself be.” Banon snorted around a full mouth of pastries. “That sort of behavior would never have been allowed in our Circle. Much less wise, given what could happen to you.”

“As I understand, the White Spire was especially lenient to the mages.” Helisma explained. “Until the murders.”

Banon stilled. “Murders?”

Helisma blinked and recalled the gossip. “Yes. Recently arrived mages or mages who were deemed potentially unstable would be found the next morning in their cells.” She spoke evenly, with no emotion attached. “Murdered. Their necks slit cleanly.”

Banon found it far more terrifying to hear this without inflection in her voice. “Maker. Did they ever figure out who did it?”

Helisma opened her mouth. 

“Wait! I bet it was the Templars. Or the Seekers.”

Helisma shook her head. “There were no clear answers. There was rumor of it being a mage.”

“What??” Banon huffed. “Why would a mage kill another mage in the circle?” 

“The theory that was most likely, was pity.” 

“I can understand that. But unless those mages were about to be made tranquil - no offense - but why?” Banon muttered. 

“Demon.” Paloma yawned and blinked at them. 

“Demon?!” Banon looked behind him and then at her. 

“It was a demon who did the murders.”

“What?!” Banon paled. 

Helisma gave Paloma a curious look. “Would you elaborate?”

“It was a demon of compassion, named Cole.” Paloma added as she stretched. “Lord Seeker Lambert thought…” She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “…thought it was Enchanter Rhys responsible for the murders.” She stood up with a crack in her back. 

“I heard of him. Isn’t he the one blamed for Pharamond’s death?” Banon asked. 

“Another rumor.” Helisma stated. “There was never enough time to investigate his death.”

“True.” Banon nodded. “Still though, that’s a lot of murders in the Spire. And all leading up to the rebellion.”

“You can ask Rhys who killed Pharamond.” Paloma muttered. “Doubt he’ll tell you. He’ll protect her.”

“Her?” Banon’s curiosity piqued. 

“I won’t give that out so easily.” Paloma grinned. “But she was a Libertarian.”

“Well that doesn’t narrow it down.” Banon huffed. 

Paloma shrugged and looked around. “Where’s Clemence?”

“He had to attend to another matter.” Helisma stated as she cleaned up their tea cups. 

“Oh.” Paloma didn’t push it, expecting Clemence to return soon. But he didn’t. He didn’t even return in time for the evening meal.

Even though she was still worried, Paloma took up Felix’s tray. It was slow going up the stairs as her vision blurred. She blinked rapidly to clear her sight. 

She barely registered that Niris wasn’t in her spot when she walked the hallway. Felix was at least in and called her in. 

“Ah Paloma!” He turned in his seat to look at her.

“Good evening, Felix.” She smiled toward his voice, being unable to see him clearly. She didn’t need to see, she had the way memorized by now. She walked to his table, making out a few of the objects in her way, and set his plates out to eat. She took extra caution with his tea, even if she leaned a little harder against the table once she set it down. 

She was not going to be able to help falling asleep tonight. Now with everything plaguing her the last few days settled. She just had to make it past this and back to the kitchen, then to the servants quarters.

Thinking of the long trek made her ever more exhausted.

“Are you listening?” Felix asked.

Paloma blinked rapidly. Her eyes had started to lull close in the warmth of the room. “Uh…no, I’m sorry, Felix.” 

“Am I truly that boring that I am putting you to sleep?” He joked, with a nervous shift. 

“No, it’s not that…” She assured and looked at him. Felix stepped toward her with a frown. His gaze meeting her blurred one. Her eyes glassy and bloodshot. “I’m…” The world tipped to one side. “Wha-” 

Felix was beside her quick, grasping her shoulders to steady her. “Are you alright?” He asked. 

She shook her head, his face blurring in and out. “Yes. Sorry, just a bit dizzy.” 

“That looked more than just a bit dizzy.” He drew her closer to the hearth of the fireplace. “Why don’t you sit down.” It wasn't a question.

“I should really get back to the kitchens.” She glanced at the door getting further away with his gentle coaxing to the couch he’d been inhabiting before she came in.

“I’m sure the kitchens can survive half an hour without you.”

“Hardly.” She huffed, but didn’t fight him as he pushed her to sit down. Her whole body sagged into it and she released a relieved sigh. 

Perhaps it was presumptuous of him, but he sat beside her expecting exactly what happened. Her eyelashes fluttered as she closed her eyes and she slumped to rest her head against his shoulder. 

He smirked, pleased that she felt comfortable enough to do so. But also because now he got to gaze at her while she slept. A desire that left him guilty, until it paid off in but a few minutes when she sighed with a cute little moan every so often. 

Felix watched her sleep not moving, even as his dinner grew cold. Eventually Paloma shifted, curling her legs up onto the couch. Her head came to rest on his leg as she got more comfortable. Something he did not object to as it gave him access to her hair. He ran his fingers through it, softly at first. 

Such silver tresses were not uncommon in the Imperium. Usually among the elder magisters or those attempting to look older than they were with a wig. But hers was natural, if a bit touched by magic. If he’d guessed, she had some sort of light magic attunement. Yet given the warmth she radiated naturally, perhaps light and heat. 

Dorian had a natural light and storm attunement. He practically sparkled. His personality drew attention to himself and he easily commanded his audience. That magical glint in his eye, the near twinkling in his touches, whether with magic or no. 

Felix sighed and ran his fingers across Paloma’s scalp. That had the same effect as though scratching a cat. She angled her head toward his hand and her whole body shifted, giving him more access to her scalp. He followed through and rubbed, enjoying her sounds of contentment and every shift put her more and more onto his lap. 

“You’re quite charming and adorable. Even when you’re asleep.” He mused as he halted, intending on casting a sigil to bring the table of food closer but he froze. A lump in his throat as he caught how her robes had ridden up in her movements. 

One of her legs was tucked under her but the other stretched out and hung over the armrest with her boot near kicked off. Her robes revealed a long languid and pleasing calf. The shape pleasantly plump, warm, and entirely bare. If he turned his head he could catch a glimpse of her ankles but that was nothing compared to her shapely limb exposed before him. He tracked over her skin to her knee to just mid-thigh where her robes had ridden up to. 

“Maker…” He swallowed as the proximity of her head on his lap became entirely inappropriate much too quickly. If she woke up there would be no denying his growing arousal, which she now slept against. Her puffs of breath and occasional shifts pushing him toward a near painful status. 

He delicately lifted her head and slid out from under her. He placed a pillow where he’d been. She released a disgruntled noise but settled quickly. 

Felix placed distance between him and her, allowing him a reprieve to get a hold of himself. Yet he could still see her leg and how she shifted again. Her boot falling, revealing a tantalizing foot and ankle, teasing and beckoning him to her. 

Such a delicate limb hanging before him. The curve of her ankle, the arch in her feet. He could grab it, rub his thumbs into the very soles, channeling magic to her humors and make a pleasant nap into a scandalizing yet thoroughly pleasant one…if a bit wet. 

He licked his lips and drew close. The swell of her calf muscle and delicate dip of her knee to her thighs and down toward the apex of them, hidden from him in shadows. 

Felix brought his warmed with magic hands up and ran his thumb on the soles of her feet. It tickled her. Her body taut, a disgruntled groan, and she shifted. He more firmly grabbed her foot, rubbing the arch of her foot in circles. She moaned. Incensed, he pushed against her heel and the ball of her foot and her body shivered. 

He could see it now, making her pant and moan all from a simple massage. He wanted to, desperately wanted to if only to see her beneath him staring up at him as he undid her. 

But nay, he was no deviant. He would not force it on her. And so he drew back. Took a breath and retrieved a linen blanket and covered her. He sat far from the hearth, right next to the windows. He required the cool air to calm his urges. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, you can have an orgasm from just a foot massage. Background, Felix has experienced this and Felix knows how to accomplish it. 
> 
> My head is in the gutter. Also I wanted to hurry up the tension between Felix and Paloma, get them on par with Paloma and Clemence. 
> 
> Also it is 12:30 AM and I am exhausted. Please let me know if there are any typos...I'm just so tired.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma again wakes up in a strange place.

Waking up in strange places was becoming a pattern. But instead of jolting awake like the last two times, she lay there blinking herself awake and adjusting to the warmth and cushion. Much more comfortable than Fiona’s couch and certainly more so than the garden shed bench. Although the garden shed bench had the bonus of having Clemence beside her. 

She took in her environment, the feel, and sounds. The air might have been stale but there was a lit hearth not far. Chalk scratched on a board and scribbled away. A book shut softly, papers shuffled and scrolls set down. A robe sighed as it swished to the movement of soft thudded feet. A spoon tapped lightly against a tea cup and then stirred, clinking every so often. 

She huffed with a smile and nearly fell back asleep to the ASMR around her. 

“Ah she smiles in her sleep,” Felix spoke not far from her. “While she lays upon his couch, relaxed, open, vulnerable.” He narrated. 

With one eye, she peeked at him by the table. It was still laden with food, yet he only touched the tea cup, raising it to his lips as he leaned against the table. 

“She peers upon the Tevinter who watched over her while she slept. A most dangerous predicament for any young woman.” He spoke as though with an audience watching. “Or so the rumors say in warning of such Northern mages.” He persisted in his monologuing. 

Paloma quirked a brow up, shaking her head. What was he doing? 

“Yet she does not move when given the chance. Curious.” Felix sipped his tea and tilted his head at her. “Mayhaps she is contemplating her escape from the Tevinter? To rush from the man who, according to all, would have no doubt preyed upon her as she vulnerably rested?” He took on a dark and rumbling tone with a conspiratorial edge, as though sharing a secret. He looked at her and winked. 

She rubbed her face, her smile widening. 

“Or perhaps she sat comfortably in his presence with no worry for her safety? He wonders if her gaze at him is warm, amused by his machinations.”

Paloma snorted, unable to hold that in.

“Or perhaps she finds his impromptu storytelling charming, wishing to hear the end of it?” Felix smirked as her shoulders shook with laughter. 

She giggled and covered her mouth. 

“Hmm, the Tevinter mage is pleased he has entertained.” He bowed, arms outstretched as he ducked his head. 

“You’re ridiculous.” She huffed and then stretched. “I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.”

“Nonsense, I rather enjoyed you fainting at my mere presence.” He exaggerated. 

“I did not faint!” Paloma laughed. 

“No.” He admitted. “But you did look like you needed a nap.”

“I did…” she sighed. “Maker how long was I asleep for?”

“A little under an hour.”

“An hour?!” She sat up. The blanket falling to her lap. She swiveled, her bare feet touching the carpet. She looked for her boots, finding them across from her. 

“Relax.” He held his hands up. “I had Niris inform the kitchens you would be having your evening meal with me.” He stepped to the table and picked up the tray. “And so had another plate brought up.” He walked toward her. 

“While I admire your ingenuity in coming up with an excuse for my absence, I really must be going.” She pulled the blanket off her as he sat.

“But if you left, how will you ever hear the end of the tale of the Sleeping Maiden and her Tevinter Watcher?” He teased sitting beside her and setting the tray between them. “It is a rather fetching story.”

“Oh is it?”

“Oh yes,” he mock dangled as if to tempt her. “I penned it for you.”

“Tell me then, this sleeping maiden. Does she fall prey to her watchful Tevinter?” She squinted. 

“Nonsense. Falling prey is the exact opposite of what happens.” He smirked. 

“Oh?” Paloma bit her lip, now actually curious. “Do tell.”

“Well…” He lifted her hand and held it gently with both of his. “When the sleeping maiden no longer slumbered and peered at her observer. It is not she who fell prey, but him to her.” He lowered his voice, staring intently at her. At her wide eyed look and creeping flush, he felt emboldened. Even if the cool levelness he was portraying was beginning to slip as his neck burned hotter. 

“How?” She whispered, voice a quiver. 

“With one look, she ensnared his senses and captured his heart and loins.” He murmured around a kiss on her knuckles. His voice was dark and low enough to cause them both to flush at the insinuation. 

“Oh…” She swallowed.

“And she bade him to devour her.” Felix continued and pressed another kiss to her hand, this one accompanied by a nuzzle. “Lick by delicate lick.” 

“Oh my…” Paloma’s cheeks burned darker. 

“Is that an acceptable ending?” Felix sat back with a smug smirk that stretched wider when Paloma released sigh.

“It was…” Her chest as flushed as her cheeks. She took a calming breath and nodded. “It was adequate.” 

“Merely adequate?” Felix quirked a brow.

“Well…” Paloma smirked. “It was hardly a Tethras. Two scarves fluttered in shock.” She bit back a cackle as Felix recognized the rating method and laughed. 

“My heart! I’ve read Tethras, that is an insult to my creativity.” Felix was mockingly aghast. “Perhaps then the Tevinter mage should whisper more darkly to the maiden? Speak of pleasures he could grant her?” He followed up with a suggestive smirk. 

Paloma’s chest rose and she sighed as his gaze smoldered. “That is a bold statement, milord.” 

“I’ve been inspired by your own boldness, milady.” He chuckled. “You are after all the one who suggested we arrange another viewing for you.”

“Viewing?”

“Of-” Felix coughed with a teasing grin as he leant toward her to whisper. “Of me in naught but a washcloth.” He cheekily grinned. Dark eyes glittering as he gave a conspiratorial grin. “Which I would be happy to oblige, if the lady wishes.” 

“Such lascivious words!!” Paloma gasped. “You could be mistaken for a rake!”

“Me, a rake, milady?” Felix batted his lashes, acting innocent. “Perish the thought. Yet I can see how the tongues would wag in the kitchen had they caught you in my bed quarters, spread across my couch with your legs bared for all to see.” He mused. “I most certainly would have been called a rake.”

“My bare legs?” Paloma snorted in amusement. 

“Oh yes, bared and exposed legs. ‘Twas most indecent.” He admitted, in seriousness. 

“Well I hope you got an eyeful.” She laughed. 

“I did.” He whispered low, husky, and with unfulfilled want. She shivered at the sound. “To which I proceeded to spare both our reputations and your modesty of my licentious stare and avoid scurrilous scandal by covering you with a blanket.” He explained and gestured at the blanket in her lap. 

Paloma clued in then on how serious he was being. His gaze on where her legs were exposed from mid-calf down, her ankles positively bare. There was a darkness there, a longing and hungry sort of look as he trailed his gaze up to meet hers. She gulped, pushing her robe to cover herself. 

“Do not fret, peristerus mu.” He tilted his head. “Your modesty and reputation are indeed safe in my presence.” 

“Th-thank you.” She stuttered, cheeks red.

“Think nothing of it.” He added. “Now, do eat.” He pointed to the tray between them. 

It acted as a barrier. Even though he could grab her hand. If he had been intent on...tampering with her modesty, he wouldn’t have put the tray there on purpose. Something Paloma recognized and appreciated. 

She took a bite of the food she helped cook, all under Felix’s watchful gaze. 

“Are you going to sit there and watch me eat?” She huffed. 

“Initially, yes I was.” He teased while sitting back. “But if it makes you uncomfortable…” He pulled a book from the table beside the couch. He shook it to show he was opening it and beginning to read. 

Satisfied he was distracted, she went back to eating. It was Antivan, a dish called cocido genelleño. It wasn’t made with pork, but there was plenty of eggs and chicken. Paloma popped the cooked egg whole in her mouth, forgetting how hot the whole thing was and had to suck in air around it. 

“Perhaps you should have broken that up first?” Felix chuckled as she quickly chewed. 

She glared, catching his gaze over his book. She flicked at his shoulder. He ducked away. 

Once she swallowed, she hissed around a laugh. “Cheeky sod!” 

Feeling a challenge of cheekiness, Felix snuck a morsel from her plate. 

“Hey!” She slapped his hand and took the piece back. 

“Sorry, am I not meant to be cheeky?” He taunted and went for another piece. 

“Oooh!” Paloma couldn’t help how she found him frustratingly funny. “Here then!” She grabbed a spoonful of chickpeas and chicken and held it out for him to eat.

“Oh no...I couldn’t.” Felix pulled back.

“Oh please, I insist.” She bat her lashes with her own sinister like smile. “If you’re stealing from my plate, clearly I underestimated how much food should have been on your plate.”

“Ah...no, it’s quite alright.” Felix faltered. 

“Please...eat.” She pushed the spoon at him. 

He hadn’t meant to actually steal her food to eat, but he leaned forward to eat from her spoon, only for Paloma to pull it back quick and stuff it in her own mouth. He gaped at her.

“Oh...whoops.” Paloma spoke around chewing. “Sorry, that was for me. Let me get you another…” 

Felix sputtered but humored her as she held another full spoon up, only for her to do the same thing. 

“Who is the cheeky sod now?” 

“I haven’t…” Paloma held a finger up as she chewed faster and swallowed. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

“Oh I’m sure you don’t.” 

“Here, let me get you another spoonful.” Paloma lifted the spoon up, holding it up. 

Felix tried again to go for it but again she pulled the spoon back. With a playful growl, he lunged and took the spoon in his mouth mere centimeters from Paloma’s face. Their lips brushing against each other briefly. 

They both pulled away, shocked with cheeks inflamed and eyes wide.

Paloma touched her lips, doubting whether that had actually happened. 

Felix rubbed and licked his lips to sear the memory there. He peeked at her, to find her simultaneously taking short glances at him. 

“Ah…” Felix cleared his throat as he swallowed “Even in a second serving, your cooking is a dream.” He broke the silence.

Paloma laughed.

“What?” 

“I didn’t cook this.” She pointed out. 

“No?” Felix asked. 

“This was Clemence’s cooking.” 

“The tranquil?”

“Yes.” Her smile waned. “**Clemence.**” 

“Hmmm.” He leaned back. “So when do you do most of the cooking?”

“We take turns.” She shrugged. “But yesterday I did.”

“Ah, so you’re the one I should thank for the memories of home.” Felix grinned.

“I suppose.” She looked away. 

“Thank you.” 

She finished eating with no more interruption or shenanigans, except of course occasionally meeting Felix’s gaze from over his book. 

Once done, she pulled her boots on and arranged the plates from largest to smallest and rose with the tray in hand. “I must thank you again for lending me your couch to nap on.” 

“It was no trouble.” Felix stated. “Please feel free to make yourself comfortable in my quarters again.” He whispered. 

Paloma gasped. “That is too forward!” 

“More forward than our lips touching mere moments ago?” Felix asked, his neck red.

Paloma’s lips twitched and her nose scrunched. “No I suppose not.” She stood there holding the tray. 

Felix fiddled with his robes. “I…I greatly enjoyed your company tonight.” 

“I did too.” Paloma smiled. “I-I mean…I enjoyed your company…not to say I enjoyed my own.” She floundered, awkward and wanting to hide away.

Felix found her endearing and was relieved to know he wasn’t the only one full of nerves. “Perhaps then, we should do this again?” Felix asked. “Preferably with you fully conscious?” 

“I’d…like that.” Paloma bit her lip. 

“Tomorrow then?” 

“Tomorrow?” Her eyes popped. 

“Too soon?” Felix grimaced. 

“No, uh...no tomorrow is perfect.” They were quiet, smiling at each other. Paloma and Felix unable to keep their gaze on each other for long before looking away. Until Paloma remembered she should return to the kitchens. “I should go. I’m sure they’ve missed me.”

“Yes, I’m sure they have.” Felix murmured after her as they approached his door. He opened it. 

“Thank you.” She stepped out. 

“Goodnight, Paloma.” 

“Goodnight, Felix.” 

He didn’t shut the door until she disappeared down the stairs. But when he did, he rested against it and sighed. His fingers on his lips again, remembering her own warm ones. It wasn’t a kiss, but maker how he wished it had been.

* * *

Paloma entered into a mostly empty kitchen with a warm smile that beamed brighter when she saw Clemence, who finally had returned. 

“Clemence!” She set the tray down and rushed to him. “Where have you been? 

“I left to speak with the Grand Enchanter. You have eaten?” He looked at the tray of empty plates. 

“I did.”

“It seems the Magister’s son was able to rouse your full appetite.” Clemence stated. 

Given the nature of the topics she’d had with Felix, the phrasing of that sentence filled Paloma’s face with blood. “Uh um...I just had more time to eat is all.” She explained, knowing Clemence had meant nothing by it. She covered her cheeks. “What...what did you see Fiona for?”

Clemence’s brows furrowed at her reaction. “I requested special accommodation for a separate room for you and I.” 

“A pri-private room?” Paloma sputtered, the heat traveled to her chest.

“Yes. We have not been able to discuss private matters since the Circle....are you well?” 

“Yea...yeap!” Paloma nodded, as she calmed herself down. “Right so a room, just for us?” 

“Yes. Additionally it was so I can ensure you do return to sleep the full night.” He added. 

“Oh...oh Clemence.” Paloma sighed and pulled him into a short hug. He’d barely had enough time to wrap his arms around her much less press his face to her neck as he usually did. “The last few days I haven’t slept because I’ve had something on my mind and it’s all cleared up now, so I won’t be doing that again.” 

“But we cannot discount it as occurring again in the future.” 

“Alright… I’ll give you that. So what did Fiona say?”

“Unfortunately there was no available single bedrooms, but as soon as one was available she would ensure it is assigned to us.” Clemence explained. “She also asked how our flowers were doing. I assume you informed her of our efforts?”

“Yeah…that iss something we have to talk about.” Paloma rubbed her legs through her robes. 

“Ah, I see.” Clemence nodded. 

“But a discussion with Fiona wouldn’t have taken that long.” Paloma frowned. “Why were you gone for so long?”

“There was still the matter of privacy. I created a temporary solution until a room can be assigned.” Clemence stated. 

“What did you do?” 

“Let us first finish here.” He pointed to the plates. “Then I will show you.”

They cleaned the last of the plates and ensured preparations for the next morning were done before exiting the kitchens. The air was colder now and Paloma shivered as Clemence then pulled a fur lined cloak from a basket by the door. He held it out to her.

“Where did you get this?”

“I took a trip to the village to retrieve supplies. I also found a few other items. Come.” He stated and also pulled out another fur lined cloak for himself. 

The trek was slow, quiet, and Paloma looked up at the sky. The tinge of green from the Breach filtered every thing, even the moons, in its color. 

She went to take the path toward the Servants Quarters, but Clemence directed her instead toward the gardens, specifically their garden shed. “Clemence?” 

He said nothing but grabbed her hand and pulled her along. Their fingers intertwined comfortably. They walked through the gardens toward the shed. Paloma couldn’t quite place it but there was something different about it. When she stepped inside it became clear as Clemence explained what he did. 

He cleaned and organized the garden equipment onto one wall. With extra shelves built, reducing the amount of space it all took. Their greenhouse experiment sat on the sole table, flush against the window with sunglowstones. And in the space that was now free, the ground was swept clean of dirt, dust and debris, a rug was laid out. A single chest, that was open had all of their possessions. And the two originals benches now had a third. They were pressed tight, tied to make them sturdy and covered in bedrolls, a blanket, and a fur pelt for warmth. 

“I also repaired the roofing to ensure there would be no leaking.” Clemence finished. 

“You…made us a private room.” Paloma looked around. 

“Yes.” Clemence affirmed. “What did you wish to talk about.” 

Paloma puffed her cheeks, trying to figure out where to start. “Let’s get ready for bed first?” 

Clemence conceded that much and they both undressed to their under robes. Clemence showed her the enchanted bowl. It filled with fresh clean water and purified the soiled water left. It did not however warm the water. That is something Paloma had to do into a bucket. Clemence aided her sigil craft to warm it just enough to be comfortable. 

The feel of the fade opening tightened his chest, but it loosened when she smiled at him. 

They cleaned themselves and then climbed into bed. 

He walked her through a soundproofing ward.

Again the fade swept over him and he pressed tighter against Paloma as they settled in. She curled into his chest telling him everything from the last few days. Her botched tea, her worry, and specifically her knowledge that Felix was meant to die. It darkened the memory of her evening with him, but was no less true. 

Clemence sensed her sadness and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Though he did not understand why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cocido genelleño = cocido madrileño  
Because madrileño is derived off Madrid. So I can't exactly have a dish called that in Thedas. Changed it to genelleño for Genellen in Antiva.
> 
> peristerus mu = my dove  
its Greek-ish.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clemence awakens the next morning pleasantly content.

Clemence awoke to the distant sound of birds and the much closer snores of Paloma, whom was spread across his chest. She was pressed near flush against him. He was laying on his back this time. One of her legs was hiked over his, while one arm was thrown over his chest. Her hand occasionally twitched and glowed as she cast in her sleep. 

He watched, not threatened by it or worried. But...a soft sort of humor as anytime Paloma tensed in her sleep, her hand would glow. There was no heat, no spark, only light. Then she would sigh. Yet each time she cast unknowingly, the veil rippled between them and he felt the fade.

This time however, the tightness in his chest was expected. He welcomed it when it softened by looking at Paloma. He lifted enough to check her expression, to ensure her dreams were little more than mild disturbances. Clemence’s breath stilled when he caught her smile.

Following a sudden urge, his arm came around her. Gentle so as not to rouse her, he slipped his hand up to her neck and ran his fingers through her hair. Careful of the tangles, he scraped lightly through them. 

Paloma responded with a moan. She pushed her head into his hand, seeking out the pads of his fingers. 

Clemence took a deep breath, filling himself with the scent of her. The overwhelming scent of her soap had him glancing at the enchanted bowl and soap they both had used. Embrium and lavender, but there was something else in the air. Something he knew was hers and hers alone. Her sweat and...something else. 

He rubbed her scalp again down to her neck. She shivered and moaned again, this time her whole body responded. She arched her chest into him, her hips rubbed against him, and her leg - 

He shut his eyes from the immediate response from his inguen. His head resting back, gaze toward the heavens. 

He didn’t stop brushing his hand through her hair. Merely laid there, experiencing the pleasant tightness in his body and her moaning and shivering against him. The nature of his touches changed the pattern of her dreams and thus the frequency in which she cast. Her arm ceased twitching and soon she was sighing awake. 

Yet by that time the veil tear was no more and the tightness in his chest had left him. Clarity - or perhaps dullness? - returned. Leaving only one form of tightness that he quickly realized would be inappropriate for his bedmate to learn of given her prior reactions. Yet it was inevitable as her leg pressed against his erection. Even with sleeping gowns, it was difficult to hide that fact. 

Paloma looked up at him with a yawn. “Good morning, Clemence.” She stilled when she went to stretch as she normally does. “Oh...oh!” Her voice lowered. 

He spied her embarrassment, cheeks red and lips bitten as she looked away from him. She gently extricated herself off him.

“Uh...um...I’ll gi-give you a moment,” she stammered and pulled her cloak on. 

“It is much appreciated.” Clemence sat up.

She exited the garden shed.

With a mechanical and practiced fashion he gripped himself. He stroked himself with no thought, except on relieving the pressure and discomfort. He completed in his hand and cleaned himself. 

He took the private moment to bath with a washcloth and the cool water. He dressed and then opened the door to find Paloma not beside the shed but in the midst of the garden where Helisma was walking the Arl’s mabari, as the Tevinters refuse to let them run wild and rampant. Paloma crouched low, face licked by four different mabari. 

Helisma looked across the garden to him, nodding her head in acknowledgement. Clemence returned the gesture and approached. 

“Paloma, it is prudent for you to dress yourself.” Clemence reminded. 

“Ah, yeah-but oooh you’re so cute.” She cooed at the mabari who barked in enthusiasm. Each one receiving an affectionate rub down and belly rub. “Is Helisma taking care of you all?” She asked and the mabari all gave affectionate but positive responses. “Alright.” She huffed and then walked back to the garden shed.

“I see you have made temporary quarters for yourself and your preferred.” Helisma spoke. 

Clemence blinked. “My preferred?” 

“Ah. Paloma.” Helisma corrected. “Perhaps I misspoke. I assumed.”

“I do not recognize the phrase is all.” 

“It is not an officially recognized phrase.” Helisma stated. 

“What is it’s colloquial use and definition?” Clemence asked. 

“Its use is for close non-tranquil companions.”

“There are many who fit this criteria.”

“Yes, but these are specifically those whom which we regard highly and include their well-being in our decision making whilst benefiting from their presence, conversation, dependence,” Helisma informed. “And for some, affection.”

“Affection?” Clemence furrowed his brows. “Do you not run the risk of your companion abusing the trust you’ve nurtured?” 

Helisma tilted her head. “How so?” 

Clemence glanced back to the garden shed. “Paloma has made it clear such physically intimate expressions of affection would be a trespass on my being. That as Tranquil, I would be in no position to give informed consent on such advances.” 

“I see her logical reasoning. How fortuitous you have a preferred whom considers your capacity for consent. However,” Helisma looked toward the garden shed as well. “Affection need not be solely physical nor intimate.”

Clemence blinked. He had not considered that. 

“I must return the mabari to the kennel.” Helisma excused herself. “I shall arrive to the kitchens shortly after.” 

“Of course.” Clemence nodded. Perhaps Paloma was his preferred. 

She exited the garden with a bright smile and wearing not mage robes but a new set of dresses and stockings he had found in the village. It was made for a human woman and as such hung loose on Paloma. Any elvenwear would have been too short and it would be inappropriate for an innocent to have much skin displayed. Not even to mention, he would not buy elvenwear for someone who is not an elf. 

“I see you found the garments I procured.” 

“Yes!” She enthused and twirled. The skirts lifted enough to show the stockings and her boots underneath. “I love it! It’s a bit loose, but nothing a bit of altering cannot fix.” Paloma pulled the strip of fabric tighter beneath her bust and back around and forward, attempting to tie it behind her. Clemence stepped up and tied it for her. “Thank you. Did you find anything for yourself?” 

Clemence blinked. “No.”

“Oh...was there nothing that fit you?” She asked. 

“I did not consider myself whilst I purchased of these items.” He stated. No, he only recalled Paloma’s expression when they first arrived in Redcliffe. The women wore an assortment of dresses of varying styles. Yet all the circle mages had the same robe styles, with only minor differences to denote Circle rank. Paloma had appeared appreciative of one dress in particular at their last visit to the market. 

He finished the bow and smoothed out the skirts. 

“Thank you.” 

“Please allow me to untangle your hair.” 

Back inside she sat as he combed through her hair. He sectioned it off to prevent pulling and gently untangled her damp locks. He braided her hair back and set it as a bun with a leather tie. Though he was finished, his hands lingered at the base of her neck. He recalled how he ran the pads of his fingers up and down and through her scalp and the peace he’d felt.

Gently, he did the same now, only this time he pressed his thumb down and down. The flesh of her neck warmed as he trailed his fingers across. She instinctively arched into his touch but quickly halted his advances and looked up at him. Her confused gaze wide and cheeks a blush. “Clemence?”

“My apologies.” He stepped back, brows furrowed. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes.” He doubted his own answer but withdrew further. The action had elicited the same response in her, but not in him. What was different? “We should head to the kitchens.” 

“Alright.” Paloma followed after him. A simple locking sigil kept the garden shed protected. She kept her gaze on Clemence, worry itching over his strange behavior. 

She had no time however to wonder on it, for as soon as they arrived at the kitchen they were separated by duties. A new shipment had arrived which required a meticulous eye and hand to go over and Fiona was also present to change Felix’s tea preparations and grab the Andraste’s Grace flowers.

At the stone table was Banon and Helisma kneading pita dough. 

“So I brew the two teas separately?” Paloma asked as she wrote the instructions down. 

“Yes. But you need to put four times more lyrium into the andraste’s grace one, and the same for the other while they brew. Once they are brewed, cool the andraste’s grace tea and slowly incorporate it to the other while stirring.”

“Cool, then incorporate.” Paloma nodded and wrote it down. “Lukewarm tea...gross.”

“It’s medicinal, he will drink it at whatever temperature I say.” Fiona sniffed and then looked over Paloma’s paper, nodding at the accuracy. “It must be drank immediately so you will need to finish the final step before he drinks it.” 

“The final step?” 

“You add one and one fourth spoons of lyrium and stir sinistrally. Lyrium has varying effects when used boiled versus when cool.”

“Alright.” Paloma nodded and added that last bit. 

“Clemence?” Fiona looked toward the tranquil who sat on a low stool with several boxes around him. He held a clipboard, pen, with several sheets of paper. A pair of spectacles perched on his nose as he looked over the bill of lading and ensured all that had been ordered and paid for, for the kitchen at least, was present. “Did you catch that?”

“Yes Grand Enchanter.” Clemence nodded while he lifted the sheets of paper up and slid his fingers over the clipboard in a precise manner to press the runes that represented numbers. They rearranged and Clemence nodded to write the number down, signing off on the receipt of the goods. He stood up and approached them. “We ordered another shipment of olive oil that was not received, but yet not paid for. That is the only thing missing.” 

“Ah, guess I can use lard instead. The Tevinters won't be happy about that. Makes the frying too heavy.” Paloma sighed. 

“Adjustments can be made to the meal plan.” 

“You will need to with or without the olive oil. Many of Alexius’s guests are departing in the next week.” Fiona informed as she was given the bill of lading papers. She thanked Clemence. 

“Oh? Well, less mouths, less need for goods. I might be able to add additional preservative wards on what we have to make them last. Otherwise we’ll have to use up the stuff that is starting to go.” Paloma muttered and walked toward her own set of books and the designated meal plan. 

“That may be wise. Be sure Felix begins his new tea treatment today. I want to document the effects immediately.” Fiona reminded. 

“Shall he drink before or after eating.” Clemence asked. 

“Oh!” Fiona smiled at Clemence for reminding her. “After eating this time.” 

“So he should take it with food. Once in the morning and once at night. Hmm.” Paloma stepped back to her new instructions and added that. “Anything else.”

“That should be all.” Fiona looked Helisma and her gaze lingered Banon. “And how are you settling in Archivist Banon?” 

“Quite well than-” He froze, wide eyed and pale. 

Fiona smirked. “See to it that Banon has his meals in the kitchens from now on.” Fiona informed Clemence and Paloma before leaving. 

“Are you quite well?” Helisma broke the quiet that followed. 

“I’m…” Banon looked at her and then to Clemence and Paloma, worried. “...fine.”

“I guess this means you can’t listen in on all the gossip anymore.” Paloma patted Banon’s shoulder as she passed to the larder. She pulled out the trays of halloumi and vegetables that would be served this morning as a mostly cold spread. The only thing warm today being the bread, hummus, and the halloumi once it was grilled.

“You are welcome to join me with the mabari for supper.” Helisma offered.

“Okay…” Banon squinted but said nothing, yet did not stop glancing at the placating and knowing smile of Paloma.

Breakfast was served and Paloma prepared Felix’s tea to take up. Clemence hovered beside her, ensuring it was prepared correctly. There were two teapots set on the tray. One that was cooled and the other hot. 

She ascended up shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy... sorry for the short chapter and the ending. It was not on purpose or intentional. Felix and Paloma have decided to broach several political topics in next scene. And it got very long, so now it is it's own chapter. -throws hands up-
> 
> Can you guys guess what's up with Banon?


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma and Felix have a series of political discussions from slavery to relativist history to sexism.

Felix was not in his room when Paloma knocked. He was returning from the library with another set of books. He turned around the corner with Niris beside him as they came upon Paloma knocking on his door and waiting. 

With a humored smirk, he leant against the wall opposite her. He took her in. She was not wearing her normal robes and apron but a dress. Her off-white underdress had a lace hem and with a yellow over dress complementing the hemmed pattern. The skirts were long enough to hang at about ankle length, which he could spy as she shifted in place. 

He licked his lips at the fond memory of her bare legs and then directed his gaze upward. 

A single sash tied the whole thing tight to her torso beneath her bosom. Her sleeves were simple and though he suspected were meant to be form fitting, hung a tad loose. He bemoaned that her hair was tied back into a braided bun, recalling the softness and length of her long hair as he ran his fingers through it. He supposed having her hair tied back and up was more prudent for working in the kitchens. 

She knocked again whilst balancing the tray on her hip. “Felix? Is everything alright?” She called against the door. 

“I believe so.” He muttered.

Paloma yelped, jumping and looking back at him. “Maker!” She gasped. “How long have you been there?”

“Enough to determine your situational awareness is rather lacking.” He pivoted off the wall and nodded at Niris who went back to her post. 

“I hadn’t heard your footsteps.” Paloma glared as he opened the door and let her in first. 

“I gathered as much.” He closed the door and she walked to his table to set up his breakfast. “But I am rather lightfooted.” He turned back and cast a sigil of sound proofing. “Though I suppose noise suppressing enchanted boots do help.” He lifted his shoes for reference. 

Paloma straightened and looked at him incredulously. “How...how was I meant to detect you were there then?” 

“Mundanely? The displacement of air, scent, your peripheral vision.” He offered as examples. “Arcanely. Detecting ambient ripples in the veil, the presence of secondary auras, and the minty texture of lyrium, strange as it might sound.” 

“Ripples in the veil?” Paloma pursed her lips. “I never learned that in Veil theory lessons.” 

“I imagine not. The theory of veil ripple detection is fairly new. A nuanced study was published in the Blessed Age.” Felix replied. “In Tevinter, so of course it wouldn’t have been part of your curriculum.” He approached. “But the concept has been dated as far back as when Tevinter first started.” 

"Do you suppose then it might be elven in origin?" She crossed her arms, staring at him.

He was sure this was a test, and so grinned in response. He reached for his teacup. It was empty however. He furrowed his brows. “It might, but there have been no documents surfaced to report it. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it did.”

Paloma smiled at his tempered response. “Unfortunately, many of your racial colleagues would disagree. But I am pleased you do not discount the possibility.” 

“Discounting any possibility, as I’m learning, is a detriment to the mundane and social sciences.” Felix set his selected books down. "You…” He cleared his throat as he looked at her again, this time closer. He could see the difference from yesterday to today. There were no bags under her eyes and she looked remarkably refreshed. “I see you’ve rested well.”

“I did.” She admitted and continued putting his plates down. 

“You look quite fetching in that dress. The color suits you." Felix complimented.

"Oh?" Paloma beamed, her eyes brightened with a genuinely soft smile. "It's rather cute. Clemence bought it for me." She lifted the skirts up to show off the lace hem pattern. He caught the shape of her ankles through her wool stockings but he was distracted by her words. 

"Clemence the tranquil?" Felix frowned and sat down.

"There isn’t much in the way of wardrobe choice in the Circles, so he got it for me." 

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. Was Clemence perhaps her…no. Of course not. Yet at the warmth with which she exuded when fixing her skirts, he doubted himself. So perhaps...he was? Tranquil or no, it was entirely possible they were together. 

“I see.” He frowned. 

“Hmmm…” Paloma tapped her lip. 

“Is something the matter?”

“Fiona’s new formula requires you eat first.” Paloma bit her lip. “I cannot serve it until then.”

“Ah yes, she informed me of that in my check up.” He nodded. 

“I suppose I will teach you how you’re meant to mix these two.” Paloma gestured at the two teapots.

“Of course.” Felix agreed. “Although, how can you be sure I will eat before I drink it?” 

She squinted at him. “Suppose I shall come back when you’re done.”

“Or…you can sit and join me in breaking our fast.” Felix invited with a smile as he stood.

She opened her mouth and snapped it shut with a suspicious look at him. “I will have to go down and grab another serving.” 

“Are you certain? Is there not enough for two…perhaps even three in this spread?” Felix gestured.

He wasn’t wrong. She usually put enough for at least two people, sometimes three on his plates.

“I suppose…”

Felix smirked and pulled out the chair opposite him. “Then please sit.”

Paloma considered him and then sighed. She sat as he pushed the chair in. “Your plates always return to the kitchens empty. Do you usually finish the full serving yourself?”

“Not by myself no. I usually invite Niris to share in the meal with me.” Felix explained as he passed Paloma a pita bread. 

“You invite your slave to sit at the table with you?” She blinked.

“Shocking, is it?” Felix dipped his bread in the hummus with peppers. 

“Well, I didn’t think anyone from Tevinter would…”

“Niris has been with us since before I was born. She’s like family.” He added softly. 

“Strange…” Paloma countered as she grabbed mostly carrots and halloumi for her bread. “Keeping family as slaves.”

“It’s not ideal, but I’ve seen the alternative.”

“That is?” 

“Inescapable poverty, living in alienages. Those in Orlais alone are...” Felix recalled during his time in University. The dismal diseased streets where nobility often made abuses openly. “I would not condemn them to that life. It’s horrific.”

“On that, I suppose we agree.” Paloma sighed. “But is it really your call though?”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“Making the decision for them, where they have no choice or say in whether they serve your family or...to live free and in poverty.” 

“Well considering I never made that decision. No.”

“No but one day you’ll inherit them, right? So you’ll have the power to choose for them, will you not?”

“If I’m lucky, I’ll live that long.” Felix muttered.

Paloma frowned.

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to derail. But, my condition…”

“Yes I know…” Paloma looked down. “But suppose you do live that long. What would you do then? Would you ask what they wished to do? Would you free them?” Paloma asked. 

“I…well.” He paused and stared. She was serious about the question. “Freeing them is a long arduous process involving the judiciary system. I’d have to be present and prove that as a Liberati, they would be capable to find work to support themselves or offer a sizable donation so they can apprentice in a trade to do so, and ensure they would perform their civic duties to the Imperium.”

“Their civic duties?”

“Voting in state and district elections and volunteer service in districts lacking the necessary number of servus publicus.”

“That's…quite a lot.” 

“Yes, the Magisterium ruled that freed slaves should be capable of being fully functioning members of society.”

“So why aren’t they allowed to join the military or run for those elected positions?” 

Felix took a heavy breath and sat back. “The most likely answer would be prejudice. But that is not so easily fixed overnight.”

“No, but it can happen in inches.” Paloma added.

Felix laughed and covered his mouth as he swallowed. “You remind me of a friend. Said the same thing about Tevinter’s decay.” 

Paloma tapped her fingers against the table, knowing who he was comparing her to, but said nothing. “Hmm, well Tevinter did use to be ‘great’ when its borders spread across all of Thedas.”

“Until the inevitable.” Felix sighed.

“And that is?” 

“Corruption and I don’t mean the blight or demons.” At her confused look he elaborated. “You see, regardless if it’s political or magical...power tends to corrupt.”

“And absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Paloma finished the quote. 

“Ahh, so you’re familiar with Bann Tanoc.” Felix grinned. 

“Uh…” Paloma blanched, she had no idea who that was. “I might have glanced at their works. Remind me?”

“Perhaps you’ve read this one then as I’ve just picked up her book of essays. One of her letters was to Revered Mother Meighton on historical relativism.” Felix tried. 

Paloma sucked on a carrot in thought. “What did Bann Tanoc say?”

Felix beamed and went into a lengthy explanation involving Chantric examples of their histories purified of the horrors they committed against the common people of Orlais, Ferelden, and even the elves. And even made a comparative modern example should history simply ignore Empress Celene’s actions in slaughtering an entire alienage. “Recorded history should not be devoid of critical analysis of its leaders. No matter who history is recording, they should all be held to the same objective moral standard.”

“Ah… this is familiar.” Paloma squinted at what he said. It sounded shockingly like Lord Acton. “Abuses from political and religious leaders should **not **be cleansed from historical documents but rather showcased in all their glory.” Paloma questioned. “No matter the consequences of angering those in current power?”

“Precisely.” Felix added with a grin. He stared at her for a long moment, pleased as he finished his meal. 

Paloma stood to prepare his tea and teach him. He watched dutifully as she poured the cooled one into the hot one. She stirred in lyrium dust, stirring to the right. 

“Here, drink it all.” She held out the cup and he grabbed it, his hand lingering over hers as he stared up at her.

“Thank you.” He breathed in the tea. It was certainly different. 

“Drink.” She insisted and he did. The taste was bitter at first, especially lukewarm. Yet he drank it all. Once done, she was setting the plates all back on the tray.

“I have to admit Paloma, there were moments where you remind me of my colleagues in University.” Felix sighed as he stood. 

“Is that good or bad?”

“Truthfully?” He asked her, waiting for her go ahead. “It’d be a bad thing, if you hadn’t done what they would never do.”

“And that is?”

“Well…” He put his hands in his pockets, leaning against the table. “Allowing me to dictate the conversation. I didn’t have to push to have my opinions listened to or validated or my discussions to be taken seriously. Not as I did with them.” 

“What do you mean?” She questioned.

“I’m not entirely sure this is appropriate conversation.”

Paloma scrunched her nose, shaking her head at him. “We’ve discussed slavery, Felix.” Paloma deadpanned. “I hardly think anything is inappropriate at this point.” 

“It’s a bit topically political.” 

“Whats more topical than slavery?” 

“Well, given where we are…” He winced.

“Oh out with it.” 

Felix grimaced but carried on, tentatively. “What is your opinion on the place of men in academic or Chantric spheres? Or perhaps holding positions of authority?” He muttered. 

Paloma stared incredulous for a long drawn out moment, as though waiting for the punchline - pleading that he was joking. When there was none, she laughed. “You’re joking right?” But he didn’t smile in return. In fact his mirth and good mood soured. “Oh, you’re not…”

“I hadn’t realized you would find the notion worthy of laughter.” Felix bitterly bit out.

“Well to be quite frank yes. The topic is a bit ludicrous to discuss.” Paloma huffed. Men held ridiculous positions of power in Thedas and dictated so much in the Circles. Of course they’d dominate academic and Chantric spheres, even if the Chantry is women led. Wouldn’t they?

“I suppose you believe men belong in the military?” He asked with crossed arms and furrowed brows. “And should have no lofty ideas in joining the Chantry beyond as a brother. That they should not pursue higher education?” His voice took an offended tone. “Do you believe that men who do are simply ornery and have the potential for bouts of spermatorroea, thus making them ill-equipped to hold positions of authority?” 

“Wait...**what**?” Paloma gaped. There was something wrong here. “No! That’s not it.”

“Then what?” Felix glowered. 

“I hadn’t realized it was even in contestation? I spent four years in the Circles. All I ever saw were **men **in authority.” Paloma clarified. 

“As Templars no doubt?” Felix tossed at her. 

“Well yes, but they and the Seekers dictated the lives of those in the circle.” 

“Seekers and Templars are military positions.” Felix grumbled. “From what I understand, the actual governance of your southern circles are ruled and decided by that of the First Enchanters and the Grand Enchanter, who are commonly **women**.”

Paloma thought back. The White Spire’s First Enchanter was a man as was Kinloch Hold’s, but the other circles in Orlais and those she saw present during the day the Spire rebelled, they majority were women. And the Grand Enchanter is a woman.

“Do men not hold Chantric and academic positions in Tevinter?” 

“Well...yes.” Felix confirmed. He lowered his chin and watched Paloma. “However, Orlais and the south are not so egalitarian.” 

“Egalitarian?!” Paloma scoffed. “Can women even be elected as the Divine under the Imperial Chantry?” 

“Of course.” Felix stated. 

“Has there been?”

Felix grit his teeth. “It is legal in Tevinter for them to pursue it. As opposed to openly mocked and discouraged in Orlais.”

“Yes, but has there been a woman as the Black Divine? Why has it not been achieved in Tevinter?” Paloma shot back.

“It’s simply...not...” Felix brushed off and then paused. “...not done.” Understanding dawning on him. “Just the same as why men aren’t elected to the sunburst throne.” 

“Good, you understand, milord.” Paloma glared. “Do not be so quick to cast a stone when your countrymen live in glasshouses. Orlais and Tevinter are not so different. Merely one values the work of men over women, and the opposite for the other.” 

Begrudgingly, he had to admit she was right. “Alright, I’ll concede they are equally prejudiced and faulty.”

Paloma smirked. “I’m glad we’re on the same page again. Power, corruption and all that. It doesn’t matter the gender.” She lifted the tray of dirty dishes. 

“No I suppose it doesn’t.” He sighed and trailed after her. Despite the discussion, he still felt drawn to her. Perhaps because of it. 

He opened the door for her but she turned. 

“You know, you never did answer the question.” Paloma shot back at him. 

“Hm?”

“Whether you would give your slaves the choice of freedom or continued slavery. Whether you would go through the process if they did choose freedom.” She stared him down with a smirk. 

The door was open and thus nullifying the sound proofing sigil. Niris was at her post not far off. He knew she could hear them now. His answer…would be noted. He gulped and looked at Paloma, that had been intentional. He could see that. 

“I-” He faltered. Paloma quirked a brow up. “I would need time to think about it. Perhaps you can ask me again at evening meal?” He tried. Yet Paloma’s expression dropped and her gaze became disappointed.

“We’ll see.” She pursed her lips and walked away, leaving Felix alone with Niris speaking with Paloma briefly about another serving to be brought up for her. And once she was gone, he met Niris’s gaze and felt her judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to LonelyAgain for help on the word for the male equivalent of hysteria


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clemence invites Paloma to the village where they first check in with the other Tranquil.

When they completed supper and ate, Clemence took stock of their schedule. They had two hours, perhaps three, before they had to begin the final preparations for the evening meal. Usually they spent this time preserving, jarring, or preparing yoghurts, yeasts, jams, ales, starters, and nectars, or repairing the assorted items in the kitchen, but there was no need due to their efficient planning, it was all done. 

The castle's stores were locally sourced and relied on previously preserved meats, fruits, and vegetables. But with the increase in mouths to feed thanks to the Tevinters and rebel mages, that reserve had dwindled to the bare minimums. Yet equally thanks to Tevinter's magical farming techniques, they were able to replenish that with the recent shipments.

But now that there was less Tevinters in the castle, and with their early preparation and less food being consumed, it meant these hours were free for them to do as they wished. Their greenhouse flower was proceeding as normal and while he could mentor Paloma in her handwork with spells and sigil crafting, he had a better idea. 

“Paloma?” He turned to her once he set back the book with what was needed to be done. The vegetable stew was in the slow cooking pot and would only need to be minded, all the side dishes were prepared for the evening meal. Save for the bread, which was baked fresh. The new shipment was already canned, jarred, and set to cure. “Would you accompany me to the village?”

Paloma looked up from the book she used to plan meals. She was planning meals for four weeks out, which was unnecessary as they did not know what their stores would be like then. 

“To the village?” Paloma chewed the bottom of her pen. “Didn’t you just go yesterday?” 

“I did. However this morning you asked if I had bought any new garments for myself. I had not. I did not think to nor would I know what to purchase.” Largely untrue, he could certainly buy the necessary articles of clothing to meet the requirements of a new garment but he wished to know which Paloma would prefer. “I wish for your assistance in selecting garments.”

“Oh!” Paloma shut her book. “Yeah, I’ll help you. Shall we go now, then?” 

“Yes, it would be most prudent as we have much free time.” Clemence nodded and turned to Banon who was reading. “You will remain in the kitchens and mind the cooking food. Understand?”

“Yes yes, I heard. Off with you two.” He waved his hand as he turned a page in his book, bored. 

“Helisma should return shortly so you won’t be alone for long.” Paloma advised as she pulled her cloak on. “Don’t break anything.”

“I’m not a child.” Banon mumbled.

“Hmm.” Paloma grinned. No, he wasn’t. But that wasn’t why she reminded him. It was so he didn’t try to join the other mages in the hall, to listen to gossip or to collect any sort of information. She wrote a quick note for Helisma to find and stepped out. 

The walk to the village was quick. The cold air was welcomed after the heat of the kitchen, at least for the first half of their walk. Then Paloma and Clemence we’re pulling their cloaks tighter. 

They passed the windmill, with Old Redcliffe on the West and New Redcliffe on the East. Paloma slowed, looking toward Old Redcliffe with curiosity. Specifically toward the cliff side where the old general store was and likely where Andraste’s Grace was growing. But this trip to the village was not about that, it was about purchasing Clemence clothing. 

Clemence led them into the village proper. The market square was not bustling as it wasn’t a market day, thus none of the stalls were open. They would have to visit each workshop to bargain for goods on a non market day. But first he would check on the Tranquil again. 

Located on the far northeast side of the village, almost at the very edge and near opposite to the docks, was a building that functioned both as a house and workshop for the tranquil that remained in Redcliffe - at least for those not working at the Castle. 

The rebel mages made due with working in the village and a few in the Castle, much like the tranquil. But here the tranquil thrived. And as the days were cold, the mages who hadn’t yet learned to hunt would have trouble. But that was not a problem Clemence could fix, nor did he feel compelled to. 

The Tranquil on the other hand, he felt compelled to assist when and where he could. They had only followed the rebel mages to Andoral’s Reach upon his leadership of them. They had been slotted to little more than servants to the mages, until the Templars and Seekers assaulted the ruins and they were forced to flee yet again. They fled South and East into Ferelden where the monarchy offered sanctuary in the Arling of Redcliffe. Some mages took up residence in various towns and villages in the Arling, offering what help they could. But the more senior ones congregated in Redcliffe village and at the castle. 

Almost all the remaining Tranquil were located here. The Formari amongst them set up a shop where they made coin doing enchanting work. Enchanting water basins, oven mitts, pots, swords, and bows. And those not skilled in the enchanting sciences, did menial tasks with precision and efficiency that would take the villagers twice or thrice as long for a bit of extra coin.

One would even call it lucrative. Too lucrative for others to pass up on exploiting them. 

“Ferrier, you should really reconsider our offer.” A blonde mage with a brutish Ferelden accent spoke to the young elven tranquil who stood sweeping just outside their open stall. Alain and Tyfen could be seen just inside.

“I have already reconsidered and the answer is the same.” Ferrier stated.

“How can it be the same? You tranquil are defenseless. You have no protection from those brutish Tevinters or from the Redcliffers from ripping you off. You need a sensible head for coin and commerce.” Goffrey, a Lucrosian mage, tried to convince Ferrier.

Clemence tilted his head in thought as they approached.

“We have no need for such a person.” Ferrier admitted.

“Oh posh, you naive thing. You have no idea what you speak of.” Goffrey tried again, this time his hands a light with magic. They sparked with lightning and he drew closer to Ferrier, his voice low but just loud enough Paloma and Clemence could still hear. “I think we can have a mutually beneficial arrangement, where I don’t harm you. And you provide me with a percent of your coin intake.”

“Do you want me to scare him off?” Paloma asked quietly beside Clemence.

“No. Wait here.” Clemence muttered and stepped forward. “Senior Enchanter Goffrey of the Circle of Ghislain. Ferrier has been forthright in his refusal. If you would please step aside from my colleague.”

Goffrey looked up and squinted. “I believe your colleague and I were having a…” He looked at the young tranquil. “...private conversation.”

Ferrier shook his head once and nodded twice. Clemence took a breath and reached into his collar, pulling at his runic necklace. “I am afraid Ferrier does not wish to continue this private conversation any longer.” He activated the templar rune and Goffrey’s hand and all his magic was taken from him. “Please be haste as you leave.”

“What?” Goffrey looked down at his hands.

The rune wasn’t obvious nor long lasting but did negate any active magic and reduced any mage’s mana within his vicinity. Hence why he had Paloma stay behind.

“I said-”

“I know what you said!” Goffrey growled and tried to summon magic, but he couldn’t and stepped back. He looked up, just past Clemence and across the road where a thick armed man leant against a house, at his side was a shield with a barely concealed templar crest. “Know I gave you all a chance for my protection.” Goffrey hissed and walked away.

Paloma watched him pass and walked up. “How often has he tried to extort you?”

“Every other week. Though that was the first time he was followed.”

“Perhaps that templar was extorting him as well?” Clemence mused.

Ferrier nodded. “Clemence you are visiting again. Was there anything else you needed that you missed yesterday?”

“Nay, I wished only to check in again, as I do when we come to the village.”

“Ah, I see.” Ferrier nodded and opened the door for Clemence. “Please come in.”

“Thank you.” Clemence stepped inside. Paloma didn’t, instead she lingered outside and stared down the alley Goffrey went.

“Clemence,” Tyfen walked over with a large book. “Your visit yesterday prompted a thought that perhaps we could make arrangements to set aside a stipend for you and Pal-”

“We discussed this previously, and the last time we visited, and the time before then.” Clemence interrupted with a raised hand to halt her. “It is unnecessary. I do not wish to take any coin from what rightfully belongs to the Cooperative.”

“Many of us believe that as our leader you have earned it by ensuring our protection and consideration by Fiona.” Alain stepped up.

“I do not consider myself the Collective’s leader. I was not voted such.” Clemence stated.

“Many of us have assigned you as our defacto leader purely on the actions you have taken.” Tyfen explained. “I do not disagree with the others’ logic.”

“Do we not vote on such matters democratically?” Clemence frowned.

“We do.” Tyfen confirmed. “Shall we schedule a vote then?”

“I think it is necessary.” Clemence blinked.

“Perhaps then we should set it for four days from now?” Tyfen queried and set the date on the calendar.

“That would be prudent.” Clemence nodded. “I shall inform the other tranquil in the Castle. We will meet after evening meal.” For the entirety of their time in Redcliffe, the Tranquil Co-op would give him coin they had earned to spend. Occasionally he would take some coin for services rendered in balancing the books and providing advice, but he would take no more than what was due. Any extra they tried to give him would be returned back to them.

The bit of coin he did take was used to buy a few things here and there when things broke or were worn out. Paloma’s dresses had fallen outside of those categories but he felt compelled to get her an item he knew she would find useful and pleasing.

Especially after Felix had found her those flowers.

Clemence frowned at the thought.

He could not ascertain why, but knowing Felix had done so and proceeded to ask him which flowers she favoured, left him disturbed. An unsettled twist in his stomach made worse when he learned she’d been punished for her disagreeable interaction with him. And again this morning when it took her much longer than expected to return from delivering his breakfast, only to explain she had breakfast with him.

He could only determine he felt unsettled due to the danger to Paloma. If she’d already been injured due to one interaction, then she could be again. Clemence would not allow that to come to pass again.

* * *

Paloma followed where she saw Goffrey go. Lucrosian mages were concerned only for themselves and coin. To see one step down so easily just from a bit of deprived magic was weird. Even to her. 

The alleys in Redcliffe were more like pathways between houses, so she stuck to the side. She ducked low and stopped when she heard his accent. 

“Why didn’t you step in?” Goffrey hissed. 

“You looked like you could handle it.” Another voice laughed. Paloma assumed it was the Templar that followed him. So perhaps not extorting Goffrey, but working together? “Why didn’t you use your magic?”

“That tranquil had a rune...that negated me.” Goffrey grumbled. 

“A templar rune?” Now he sounded intrigued. All humor gone from his voice. 

“Who even had access to those?” Goffrey scoffed. 

“Templars with lyrium allergies.” He explained. 

There was a long moment of silence. Paloma wondered if they had moved, and moved forward to peer around the side of the building into the square between the connected houses. She spotted them standing in a corner not far off. 

“Only a Knight Commander would have access to that.”

“Well he had one!” 

“Hmm. Well, next time…”

“Wait.” Goffrey stopped and looked directly at Paloma. “Can I help you messere?” He spoke.

Thinking quick, Paloma spat out the first thing she could think of. “Just making sure you’re alright!” She stated and pointedly looked at the shield, where the flaming sword was obvious to anyone. “I can alert the guards and let them know there is a templar present.” 

“It’s quite alright.” Goffrey smiled with fake warmth. 

“Are you certain?” She looked at the Templar pointedly, taking in his appearance. He had dark blue eyes, and she could spy the empty vials of what had no doubt been lyrium on his belt. She had to be careful about him. 

“Oh yes, Taron here is an old friend. Very pro-mage freedom.” Goffrey grinned with a too wide smile and placed his arm over Taron’s shoulder, or attempted to. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes.” Taron was looking at her. “We should go.” He said softly enough that no human should have heard.

But Paloma heard. She didn’t want to admit it but there was some benefit to the body she was given. Just because she docked herself, didn’t mean she removed all the benefits of elven ears. No, she retained the bonus of increased hearing but only if she flexed her ears backwards allowing them to reshape temporarily to a point. 

“Alright…” Paloma nodded and stepped back. She heard their footsteps leave but with closed eyes she listened. They took a left and opened a door. She wouldn’t be able to hear through walls so she drew back and returned to the Tranquil Co-op, where Clemence met her outside. 

“Ah Paloma, I wondered where you had run off to.” Clemence greeted her. 

“Followed that Enchanter. He’s not being extorted.” She told him instantly. “The Templar’s name was Taron. He’s got no lyrium on his belt though. So he might be itching to get at your stores. I’d add an extra locking rune.” 

“Of course.” Clemence agreed. He returned inside where additional locks were put on in the store room.

Tyfen stepped outside in his absence and greeted Paloma. “I understand you will be purchasing items today?” Tyfen asked Paloma. 

“Not in the Co-op, but at the tailor yes.” Paloma beamed. “It’s for Clemence though. I told him he should have gotten some clothes yesterday too, but he didn’t.” 

“Ah. Then you will need coin.” Tyfen pulled a small bag from her pocket and held it out. 

“Oh! I’m sure Clemence has coin.” Paloma eyed the bag.

“Of that I have no doubt, but consider this extra in the event there are other items Clemence or you require.” Tyfen bowed her head. “It is a gift from the Co-op.” 

“Does Clemence know about this?” Paloma tilted her head.

“Clemence would not approve of using the Co-op’s funds for himself.” Tyfen explained.

“You know I will tell him about this.” Paloma smiled. 

“I am aware. But **when **you tell him is entirely up to your discretion.” Tyfen bowed her head. 

Tutting, Paloma shook her head with a wide grin as she pocketed the bag. “I’ll get him something nice with it.”

“It is much appreciated.” 

Clemence returned and looked between Tyfen and Paloma. He opened his mouth to speak but Paloma interrupted. 

“Come on Clemence!” Paloma grabbed his hand before he could speak. “We’re burning daylight!” She pulled him toward the village square while waving at Tyfen. “Take care Tyfen, Ferrier, Alain!” 

Clemence was dragged after Paloma until the Co-op was out of sight and then she let up on the force in pulling him. Not that he fought, but once her grip was less demanding he came to a standstill. 

“Paloma?”

“You asked me for my help picking what to purchase for clothes and I’ve got an idea. Just depends on what’s available. I’m thinking a coat, waist coat, some new breeches or stockings!” She mused out loud as she walked backwards. 

“I see.” Clemence looked back where they came from and then to Paloma. He said nothing, choosing instead to follow Paloma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the week long wait. I kinda wore myself out doing rapid updating. Had to take a break and get all excited over Cyberpunk and Greedfall. 
> 
> Should be back to writing this on a more weekly schedule rather than a multi-chapter a week schedule. I was just trying to challenge myself in prep for Nano.
> 
> Next chapter is literally me waxing poetic about Thedosian Tailors and how magic has drastically changed the landscape for mass production even if largely controlled by the Southern Chantry until recently. Oh and also Paloma/Clemence fluff.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paloma picks out an outfit for Clemence at the tailor.

They made their way to Redcliffe’s tailor. It was close to the docks with it’s shoppe window facing north. Allowing for the sunrise and sunset to light their interior without having the direct light fading the colors on the fabrics or sample patterns on the mannequin displays. They entered, the small bell atop the door alerting the owner and master craftsmen to their presence. 

“Good day!” The tailor was a man named Petros de Rouge. He’d lived in Redcliffe his whole life but his father was cousin to the late Isolde and had moved and settled here once she married Eamon. 

“Good day!” Paloma beamed at the very large man. Clemence greeted the man evenly as he removed his cloak and let it hang from his arm. 

“Ah welcome back Master Clemence. And welcome Mistress?”

“Paloma.”

“Paloma?” His brows rose. “What a beautiful dove whom flies into my shop.” Petros grinned with a wink her way. 

“You are too kind.” Paloma bowed her head as she slipped her cloak off as well. 

“Please, let me take your cloaks- oh!” Petros beamed and grinned. “ Master Clemence, I see Mistress Paloma is the lovely woman you purchased my dress for.”

Paloma flushed under Petros’s look as he examined how the dress sat on her. 

“Yes.” Clemence affirmed. 

“Oh my, the color was well chosen. Goldenrod goes very well with your eyes. And your hair, mon ceur, it is like the finest sea silk,” he cooed as he stepped around her. “If you would allow me, I can make a few adjustments. I see here it sits too loose on the waist and hangs much too far past your ankles. Almost drags across the floor.” 

“It’s...fine.” Paloma spoke softly. “Besides, we’re not really here for me anyway. We’re here to outfit Clemence.” She gestured to him, but he was distracted staring at a tranquil in the back room. 

They were from the co-op working on creating a lightly runic pattern woven and heated with fine lyrium powder into the fabric, allowing for a cleansing enchantment. It would whisk sweat and dirt away, allowing the garment to last longer without washing. Washing would deplete the enchantment of course, so this was to the benefit of the wearer. There were other enchantments that could be woven into the garments of course. Cooling, warming, protection, spell barriers. But he recognized the one they were working on as the most common one. 

“Your associate does good work.” Petros praised as he caught where Clemence had looked. “They have transformed my wares into magically fashionable works of art with practical function!” 

“I trust then you are paying them well.” Clemence questioned. 

“Of course!” Petros grinned. 

“Good. For my garments, whatever you have ready made will do as well.” Clemence stated. 

Petros frowned but tutted. “One day you should allow me to create a pattern specifically for you. At a fraction of the cost of course.” Petros smiled as he stepped toward the walls. He opened one of the many cabinets showing off racks of shirts hung on wooden hangers and stacks of breeches. 

“Paloma?” Clemence gestured toward the array of garments. He knew he would need breeches, shirts, and a working vest. But those were all function aspects. He knew not what would be visually pleasing for himself. Though, he picked Paloma’s dress on matching colors and symmetry for the geometric qualities. The yellow was a duller shade of her eyes, making her gaze more pronounced. The sash was a cool dull blue that offered contrast to the yellows yet complimented and brought out the cooler tones in her silver hair. Allowing her gaze to be warm, scorching if she was angry, yet soothed and cooled by her other colors. And though he knew how the colors worked with each other, he was unsure if it was fashionable. Just as he wouldn’t know what was for himself. Petros had picked the fashionable style and cut of her dress, but Clemence had picked the colors.

Paloma stepped toward the racks and drawers in awe as Petros kept opening more. She was quick to pull the hangers off the racks. Cotton undershirts and underpants were a must, but the breeches needed to be a bit thicker, though she plucked a pair of thin breeches for the summer. They were lacking in texture or pattern until she came to one drawer with breeches made from a fabric that looked like it was cords of cotton lined up. 

“What is this?” Paloma asked and looked up. 

Petros laughed. “It is corde du roi. A very durable fabric.” 

“Cord of the king?” Paloma squinted. “Corduroy?”

“Yes.” He laughed, “You know your Orlesian well.”

“No, I just know the folk etymology of that fabric.” She bit her lip. “It is from cord and duroy.”

“How very astute of you.” Petros frowned but walked around. “These come in various colors. Might I suggest the raven blue?”

“That is quite dark.” Paloma eyed the fabric. It was very dark and to maintain that color would require minimal washing. Though with the enchantments, it wouldn’t be too hard.

“But does it not fit our Master Clemence well?” Petros held them up and out for Paloma to look between them and Clemence.

“Hmmm…” Paloma squinted. “It feels like it will be too blue. Maybe brown would be better. A softer brown, almost beige like sand.” 

“Oooh! Mistress, you have an eye for colors as well!” Petros cooed and opened a new drawer, pulling a sample out and setting it beside the shirts. 

“Clemence, come here, we need to see it against you.” 

Clemence looked between them, unsure why but he stepped closer. Petros was quick to push the sample breeches against him.

The light coloring contrasted against Clemence’s hair and sun darkened skin. His eyes were not overshadowed nor colored by the fabric. Unlike with the raven blue corduroy. 

Paloma stared at Clemence. Tracking over his features. The strong square jaw that held up a pair of regally sat cheekbones and neutrally pursed lips. They were dry and cracked from constant licking and the harsh cold air. She’d have to grab the horn/lip balm later. She stared, swallowing at the thought of running her finger over them.

“Ooh, mistress. Look at that. His eyes pop quite nicely.” Petros gasped with a grin. “Ah! I know just the thing!” He turned and quickly grabbed other samples, comparing them and grabbing shirts of various colors. 

Paloma breathed in sharp and nodded. She'd lost herself in his features. To save face, she asked about a matching waistcoat. Petros presented blue and white cravats. 

Clemence remained still throughout most of this as they collected garments to create five separate outfits from three sets of matching jackets and breeches, one waistcoat, two vests, and five undershirts and pants. 

“There…” Paloma beamed at the collection. 

“These are the colors and cuts that would suit Master Clemence.” 

White v-neck shirt with a turndown collar and poet sleeves with cuffs featured heavily in every outfit. Two vests, one a lovely blue-lilac and the other a powder blue suede, with decorative rolled edges at the shoulders and hung low to mid-thigh with a part over the loins. The breeches matched with a shade or two difference between them in beige or brown in a coarse thick cotton fabric or corduroy. The waist coast was a powder blue, made of samite cloth. 

“What do you think?” Paloma turned to him now. 

Clemence blinked at her. “It is a wide variety of outfits.” 

“Yes. But which one do you prefer?” 

Prefer? Any that Paloma would approve of, but he knew these were the one she already did approve of. 

Clemence looked at them. While they were all well made, the waist styles were purely aesthetic with little function. There were no pockets, as were the other vests. The corduroy fabric of the breeches were at least practical for work in the kitchens, the gardens, or cleaning. A functional choice. He did not mind either of those. It was merely the vests that gave him pause. 

“Would these not benefit from pockets?” Clemence pointed to the locations where they could be placed. 

“Oh certainly.” Petros was quick to mark the adjustments to be made with a pin. 

With pockets they were more preferable, however he was only to purchase one set of vest and breeches. He stared at them, unable to distinguish which would be best. Certainly they were all of equal value. All quite thick in material to be enchanted to last and to ward off the cold. Though he supposed the easier one to remove for when he was working in the kitchen would be best. 

He’d almost made his decision until he caught Paloma’s touch lingering on the suede vest. The tactile sensation of the fabric drew her touch. If he wore that suede vest, she would touch him so.

“The suede vest and set.” Clemence stated without hesitation. Paloma’s expression beamed bright and warm. 

“Wonderful!” Petros grinned and gathered the garments. “Let us have you wear them so I can make adjustments where needed.” 

Clemence grabbed the items and entered a side stall with a privacy curtain. He undressed and pulled on the first layer of garments, the underpants and undershirt, no adjustments were needed there. But the shirt, vest, and trousers were a bit loose. He stepped out to allow Petros to mark the adjustments, pinning new seams into place and cutting excess fabric where needed. 

He looked for Paloma who was on the other side of the shop staring at one of the displays. The sun filtered in from the front window, it’s rays cast over her. She was a vision of light and warmth that brought a smile and cheered and woke everyone up in her presence.

He knew why of course. Her magical attunements meant she radiated light as though she was the sun. In the Spire, when she first arrived, she’d had none. But when he’d procured permission to have a secondary garden, she accompanied him and her brief exposure to direct sunlight was the world of difference to many mages who rarely had the chance to view the sky. 

“Do you also sell shoes?” Paloma drew Petros’s attention.

“Nay I do not.” Petros answered as he tucked another seam into place. 

“No?” Paloma frowned and lifted a pair of short heels from the display. They were suede and a blue that was a shade off from the vest he wore. “Then what about these?” 

Petros looked up and smiled at the shoes she held up. “Those were made by Redcliffe’s old cordwainer.”

“Oh…” Paloma frowned. “Do you, perchance, know if he’s in town still?”

“Sadly no, the poor man long since passed.” Petros smiled. “Regrettably, his cousin runs the business now, but I wouldn’t trust him to make a good pair of shoes. Usually we townsfolk travel down into the Hinterlands, about a day’s walk. An old fella by the name of Giles near the crossroads does a good job.”

“Pity...” Paloma pouted. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to sell these then?” 

“I was unaware you required new shoes.” Clemence piped up. “Forgive me for overlookin-”

“Not for me, Clemence.” Paloma beamed. “For you!”

“I do not require new shoes.” Clemence added.

“Well no you don’t  **require** them, but they go wonderfully with the outfit.” 

“My leather ones will do fine.” Clemence stated mutely. 

Paloma and Petros however shared a long look before they gave Clemence’s shoes a judgemental glance over. They were dark scuffed leather. They were well maintained - yes, but the brown coloring did not match with the outfit Petros was adjusting. 

“Shoes are required.” Paloma and Petros mirrored each other. 

“You’ve got quite the eye.” Petros had Paloma bring them over for Clemence to try on. They were a smidge too big. “I can have these run over to Giles to have them refitted so they fit him exactly.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” Paloma smiled as she grabbed some spare cloth and leather and made a bundle for a shoe insert. 

“Very well.” 

With one final look over the entire outfit by Petros, he marked adjustments and asked for any additional enchantments to be made before he wrote the price down. Clemence eyed it. “We will have to set the shoes aside as I do not have enough coin-” 

Paloma dropped the remaining amount of coin from the bag Tyfen had given her. “We’re getting the shoes.” Paloma grinned, even as Clemence stared long at the coins.

Petros smirked but snatched the pay and wrote a quick receipt. “I shall have my apprentice deliver the completed outfit and shoes once the adjustments are made. She will also make any further adjustments on delivery.” 

“Of course.” Clemence bowed his head. 

They walked out of the tailor’s shop with a box, held together with a leather ribbon. The sun was still up and offered a warmer return back to the castle than when they left. 

Paloma set the box of shoes aside as they pulled their aprons on and finished evening meal preparations. 

“So what’s in that box?” was the first question out of Banon’s mouth when the evening meal was squared away in the hall. 

Paloma smirked yet said nothing as she prepared Felix’s serving and tea. Tonight was a decidedly more Orlesian dish. Haddock fillets in a yellow sauce, grilled marinated leeks, spiced sausages, and poached spiced quince with raisins and syrup. 

“You have two plates set on the tray.” Clemence noted as he was serving their fellow kitchen workers. 

“Ah yes. Felix asked me to join him for evening meal tonight.” Paloma explained. 

“I see.” Clemence’s lips pressed tight. 

Paloma could have swore there was a drop in Clemence’s tone as he said it. 

“I imagine I’ll have to do so anyway for every one of his meals now.” Paloma continued. “You know, to make sure he takes his tea correctly.” Paloma set the two teapots on the tray. 

“Have you not instructed him on the proper technique?” Clemence asked. 

“I… never got around to it.” Paloma fibbed. In truth she didn’t mind her prolonged interactions with Felix at each meal time. Their discussions were tense, and they didn’t agree often, but they were still fun. 

Of course, it had nothing to do with the way Felix smoothly yet somehow nervously flirted. Or how she secretly wished to tease him with a spoonful of food again and maybe…

_ ...his mouth brushed against hers. _

Her fingers brushed over her lips softly, cheeks warming and the corner of her lips lifting as her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

**No. **

It was purely intellectual. He was simply a mentally stimulating man. She tried to berate herself. 

A man who just so happened to show interest in her in a way she hadn’t received in years. And, despite what she knew of his future, she could - in theory reciprocate. Display her interest, unlike... 

Paloma looked at Clemence.

Unlike the way she felt about Clemence. 

Which didn’t matter because she could never force her desires on Clemence, on any tranquil for that matter. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Clemence was the person she was closest to, her best friend. She’d already promised she would never force affections onto him. Even if she slipped up with the hugging, yet he gave permission for that recently knowing why she did - her stomach twisted. 

Alright, she was taking advantage of the hugs. She could admit that, to herself anyway. 

“It would behoove you to do so. So it will not draw you away from your other duties.” Clemence brought her back from her musings as he set two small loaves of bread on her tray. 

“Er… right.” Paloma agreed. “I’ll see about doing that...but…” Paloma looked for some excuse. 

“I bet the Magister’s son wants her to do it, because he couldn’t be arsed.” Banon snorted, but winked toward Paloma. “You know nobility… always too lazy to do menial tasks.” 

While she didn’t like what that said about Felix, Banon gave her a perfect excuse. 

“Er...yeah.” She strained through a smile. “Can’t really help it, don’t want to anger the magisters after all. Not again anyway.” For emphasis, she rubbed her hands where the switch marks were still healing. Paloma felt like a colossal arsehole doing that. Yet, it was based in truth - even if it was not her reason. 

Clemence paused, his gaze on her hands. “This is true.” He conceded. “Do what is necessary to avoid such future punishments then.” 

Paloma nodded and left to take Felix his evening meal, all the while her stomach twisted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah this was the epitome of slice of life chapter. That aside, you may notice this story is now part of a series. This is because over the last couple-several months of my hiatus - I've been working with my friend AlyssumFlowers in merging our two world states for our respective fics for a Shared Universe that will overlap in a few places. Check out their first chapter thus far!  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979188/chapters/54935044


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix has a brief panic attack before his dinner date with Paloma. But everything works out during the date.

Felix stared at his reflection. He contemplated shaving the few wisps of facial hair but he felt it would be too obvious. Plus, Paloma already knew what he looked like in the fit of sickness and wearing only his dressing gown.

Still, he felt he should at least clean up a little. It had been some time since last he shaved. He never saw a reason for it outside of the college dress code. Even in Tevinter there was no use considering he never developed anything past this. Certainly he trimmed to prevent it looking scraggly but well, it wasn’t like it was unseemly. 

“Maferath’s balls!” Felix huffed at his reflection and turned away. He was making this more difficult than it warranted. She’d seen him naked already, for Maker’s sake! 

The memory made his neck warm. 

It was simply dinner, he told himself. Dinner in his quarters. Exactly like last night when she collapsed. Only this time they would be face to face. 

His palms became slick with sweat. 

“I saw her just this morning! Why am I suddenly so unnerved by the concept of sitting down at a table with her?” He paced while raking his fingers through his short hair. 

With a calm breath he eyed the strewn papers across the table where an assortment of numbers were. 

“Yes…break it down mathematically.” He turned to his room as though facing a lecture hall of students. He crossed to the slateboard and picked up a piece of chalk. 

He drew a three column table and wrote as the column headers: factors, similarities, and differences. 

“What are the similarities between all my interactions with Paloma?” Out of habit he looked over his shoulder. His room was full of no one, yet he didn’t stop himself or falter. It was a calming mannerism. 

“They all occurred here in my quarters, and tonight will be no different.” He wrote ‘location’ under factor and counted each interaction. He marked a tally under similarity for each. Differences had no tally mark. 

“Next...who provides the meal. Well technically father does, but Paloma is the chef. It's a bit difficult to accompany her to a restaurant or a tavern.” Felix’s shoulders slumped. “Or anywhere outside the castle.” Reluctantly he wrote provisions under factors and counted out every interaction. 

“And with her serving me the food, it also reinforces our ranks…” Felix added ‘rank’ as a factor. 

“We’ve never sat down to eat at the same time together. Always me first.” Felix smiled then and quickly wrote ‘timing’ on the board. “We’ll be presumably facing each other, rather than with her standing and waiting to ensure I consume my tea.” He wrote ‘positioning’ as well. 

He stepped back from the board, eyeing the vast number of similarities versus the meager number of differences. The table was meant to calm his nerves. Instead, it made him feel immensely guilty; as though he had failed as a suitor. 

Again he looked at his reflection, but this time instead of a nervous whelp of a man, he glared and squared his shoulders. 

“Tonight shall be different.” 

He grabbed a wide brush and lathered the cream to his jaw and upper lip. With precise movements, he angled his head and slid the razor across his skin. Again, he didn’t have much, but it had been some time since he’d shaved. And when he did, it was always at the barber’s or one of the slaves did it. 

With a splash of water, a bit of poultice, and pleasantly fragrant lotion applied, he was clean shaven. Yet even just that bit, had him staring at a different man. 

Was his posture more pronounced? His skin darker? More youthful? He even looked more aware. Though there was little he could do about the dark rings around his eyes. He’d been suffering the blight sickness for three years, it would take more than a week’s worth of good sleep to undo that. 

Still, it was an improvement. 

“Now.” He turned toward his chest of clothes, where his various robes lay, freshly laundered. He grabbed the more formal dark green one and set about pulling off the tunic he wore and replaced his garments. 

After which, he called Niris in. Only remembering a split second later the conversation she’d undoubtedly overheard that morning. 

“Shit.” He winced. 

Niris stepped into his room. Her stiff stance indicative of her constant vigilance for attackers. “Is there danger, Master Felix?” 

“No. No danger.” Felix felt the confidence he’d built fall and looked away. He gripped the back of his chair at the guilt eating at him. Why couldn’t he answer Paloma when she asked if he would free his family’s slaves? His stomach twisted in an unpleasant manner.

“Is the young master feeling ill?” Niris asked as she stepped closer. 

“Yes.” Felix admitted and quickly blurred out. “No. No not ill. Do NOT call my father.”

“I shall not, unless you ask it of me.” Niris’s tone was gentle, like a mother indulging a child. “You are quite well dressed. Shall I be expecting the silver-haired mage tonight, or will your nerves run amok to produce another lecture for an empty room?” Niris asked. 

“Are you...Niris are you teasing me?” Felix eyed her, specifically how her lips pursed to prevent from smirking.

“No, ser. I would never mock my masters.” Niris winked. “Not when he is so clearly worked up.”

Felix chuckled. “I suppose I do that often, then?”

“I have heard many of your empty-roomed lectures.” Niris confirmed, a gentle glint to her gaze. 

Felix sighed. “I wanted to ask if you could find a location in the castle, preferably open-air that I might take my evening meal in with Paloma. This room is rather stuffy, and...well.” 

“Improper to entertain a woman in? As it is your bed quarters.” Niris finished with an eyebrow quirk. 

Felix’s mouth parted. He hadn’t even thought of that angle! “Yes…yes it is.” He admitted. 

“Very well. I believe there is a secluded alcove within the library.” Niris suggested. 

“How is an alcove open air?” Felix squinted. 

“It contains windows, that you may open. While also protecting you from the elements.” Niris explained. 

Felix pursed his lips. An alcove would allow quite a lot of privacy and proximity to Paloma. 

“Yes…that will do.”

“I shall ensure no one else draws near it.” Niris made to leave. “Is there anything else?”

“I have a few more things to add.” 

  
  


The slave, Niris, wasn’t at her usual spot when Paloma stepped off the stairs. In fact the entire hallway seemed dark and empty, even though it rarely had many other people. Perhaps it was the rush of cold air that leaked into the castle beneath doorways that wormed its way into the stone, making the curtains sway and banners lift. It was ominous and yet there was something entirely lonely and melancholic about it. 

Paloma walked quietly to Felix’s door, pushing the open door in and seeing Felix hunched over his table. His gaze stuck on a page in a book he held open. Yet his eyes were unfocused and unmoving, as though lost in thought. 

“Felix?” She tapped the door and Felix looked up at her, barely aware until he blinked. There was something different about him. He was wearing his nicer robes, but his face and hair looked different. 

“Paloma.” Felix muttered, his voice low. 

“Is everything alright?” Paloma crossed to him, intending on setting the tray down but her movement woke him from the daze he was in and met her halfway.

“Not here…” He pulled the tray from her. “We’ll be dining elsewhere.” 

“Oh?” Paloma looked up at him, concern giving way to curiosity. “Where pray tell are you allowed in the castle? It is quite cold outside — unless you intend for us to eat in the hall?” 

Felix chuckled. “No, nothing like that. But I thought a change of scenery was apt. Please…” He gestured with his head to exit his quarters. 

“Alright…” Paloma indulged him, even letting him carry the tray when he insisted. She stepped out and waited for him. The door shut behind him softly with an extra drag of his feet. Paloma eyed the movement curiously. “How did you close the door without touching it?”

“Enchanted shoes, remember.” Felix met her in-awe look with an indulgent smile, the same you would give a child. At least until she pursed her lips and pulled the tray from his hands. 

“So where are we going?” Paloma took a few steps down the hall and Felix quickly got ahead to stop her and pointed her to the door opposite his.

“The library.” Felix beamed, believing the choice would soothe her pursed lips into a smile. Instead she squinted. 

Paloma looked him up and down suspiciously. “The library?” 

“There’s an alcove with a table. It’s quite private. This way.” He opened the door for her, letting her step in. Niris was waiting for them just inside. She stepped up, bowed her head, and held her hands out for the tray. “Niris will take the tray to the alcove.” 

Paloma let the slave take the tray, but still gave Felix a suspicious look. “Are we not to eat immediately then?” 

“No. I thought I would take you around the library first. You were interested in the books I was reading.” Felix held his arm out. 

“Yes...because they were not books I had access to in the Circle.” Paloma stated but did slide her arm into his. He led them down between the stacks. “Though I’ve not looked through the library in Redcliffe Castle.” 

“I assumed as much.” Felix noted with that same indulgent smile. 

“Not for lack of want,” Paloma squinted. “I’ve not had the privilege of spare time to lay about plucking tomes for my leisure, what with kitchen duties and having to indulge a Tevinter whims that heavily tax my schedule.” 

Felix grimaced, peering down at her to find her teasing grin. 

“Not to mention most of my spare time away from both is spent pursuing my own research.” 

“Research?” Felix quirked a brow. “What research were you pursuing? Perhaps we can find a book that may aid you here?” 

“Doubt it.” Paloma sighed. “Before the circles rebelled I was researching how Ferelden farmlands recovered from soil corruption so quickly after the blight.” 

“Hmm.” Felix frowned. “That is certainly...serendipitous.” 

“Sorry?” 

“Ferelden’s expedited recovery after the blight is what drew my father down here. To find a way to alleviate my symptoms.” Felix admitted as they turned down another bookshelf aisle to cross to the opposite side of the library. 

“Your father?” Paloma frowned, as they passed the library’s study door. The same door she had walked through not so long ago. Her steps slowed as she remembered that day and the thwacks to her hands. She rubbed her fingers to soothe the memory of the pain. 

“Yes…” Felix was not blind to the movement. He recalled seeing the thin red lines upon her hands. They were fading into pale pink scars now. 

Felix’s gaze darkened as his grip on Paloma’s arm tightened. Anger bubbled in the back of his throat, until Paloma looked up at him with concern. 

No. Not now. 

He set the angry thoughts aside. He would confront his father later. Right now, he was enjoying the evening — enjoying Paloma’s companionship. 

He swallowed and looked toward a bookshelf. “I recall reading a few books on botany here. I’d come across earlier editions at University. Perhaps they may aid you?” Felix stopped at a bookshelf and pulled a few books off. Paloma ran her fingers over a few of the titles, uninterest and recognition in her gaze. She set most of them back. 

“I appreciate the recommendations but I’ve read these.” Paloma patted his hand. 

“Oh? Pity.” Felix looked down at her hand upon his. 

“Though...I imagine there may be other books around here for me to read, but as I said before...not much time in the day.”

“I can arrange it so you may have an hour everyday here.” Felix offered. 

“What?” Paloma blinked and pulled back. 

He mourned the loss of her touch but quickly explained. “I wouldn’t want to presume, but I can issue a request for a change of schedule for you. Only, of course, if you wish…” 

Paloma squinted at him again. The light of the candelabras along the wall gave his gaze a dark yet pleading look. Like that of a puppy or kitten desiring to jump on the couch but won’t without her permission.

Having an hour in the library to just pick through any book to read would be a luxury she’d not had in many years. One, that under different circumstances, she would have taken without a second thought. But she had to think of the others in the kitchen. While yes they did have fewer Tevinter mouths to feed, that didn’t mean they had any less work to do. 

“I would have to think about it.” Paloma stated. “But I do appreciate the offer.” 

“Of course,” Felix nodded. 

“In the meantime, we should eat before supper gets too cold.” Paloma suggested. 

Felix led them toward the back of the library. More bookshelves lined the walls and filled the space. It looked like they had to make another turn but Felix stepped between two bookshelves that were large and overwhelmingly full of books that hid an entire sitting area and a curtained corner alcove. 

Niris had set the tray in the alcove on the table with a single candelabra and set each place setting and even served the tea — not Felix’s medicinal tea. There were also an assortment of pillows and a folded blanket. 

Paloma gave an excited gasp as she crossed forward and touched the pillows. “Cozy…” She sat down as Felix chuckled and followed her lead. “It’s a perfect reading nook.” 

Felix made himself comfortable as well. “Suppose it could be, and with the table you could write, or play a game of chess.” 

“Or stare up at the stars…” Paloma looked up at the windows above them and then down. “Or the garden! Oh, this is lovely.” 

“As are you.” Felix’s voice was lower. His expression softened in the light of the candle between them. 

Paloma’s lips stretched wide, a nervous yet giddy laugh bubbled up as she ducked her head. “We should eat, you have to take your tea on time. Remember.” 

“Of course, let us not delay.” Felix murmured. 

The meal was a simple yet elegant affair. A sweet and savory baked fillet in a wine sauce, accompanied by roasted rice, and for desert was an assortment of sugar coated fruits. Felix was always in awe of the cooking. Before coming here he thought he would waste away with Ferelden cuisine. 

Though. he wondered who did most of the cooking for this one, was it Paloma or the tranquil Clemence? 

“Besides studying and teaching, what else did you do with your time while in Orlais?” Paloma asked before taking a bite of her fillet. 

He weighed the question in his mind. What did he do besides teach and study? The last time he was in Orlais before the holiday that took his mother, he’d been studying an artifact. 

> _ The strange mirror’s surface was disturbed, almost permanently as it contained the anomaly. Every time he interacted with it directly, there was a strange gravity dilation around him. It and his equipment would fall upward, as though gravity had simply...reversed, leaving him with half a room on the ceiling and a duplicated artifact permanently sealed in place. He’d had to replicate the mirrors, yet the energy of the anomaly remained, connecting one mirror to its successors and duplicates.  _

Felix couldn’t tell her that. He was under a non disclosure agreement about the artifact in the chateau. Instead, “I spent time aiding my father in the study of gravity’s effect on time.”

Paloma sniffed and smirked. “So...even in your downtime you studied?”

“I suppose I did.” Felix conceded, not wishing to pursue the topic further. “What about you? Surely not all your time in the Circle was dedicated to study as well?” 

“No it wasn’t.” Paloma admitted and then slyly popped a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

Felix chewed his own bite, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t he raised a brow. “Well?” 

“Well what?” 

“Come now Paloma, don’t be so facetious.” Felix took a sip of tea. 

Paloma shrugged. “Mostly I clung to Clemence’s side, absorbing what he was doing.” 

“Ah-ha.” Felix’s grin turned smug. “So you are no better than I.” 

“Yeah well, I was still learning my basics. You on the other hand were at University level. Didn’t you have a  _ hobby _ ? Or friends?” Paloma pointed her spoon at him. Behaviour that would not have been tolerated in the Grand Hall. 

“I had friends back in Tevinter. I only saw them so often. As for a hobby...like what?” Felix shot back. 

“I don’t know, crochet? Knitting?” Paloma shrugged. 

“I did take up glyph and runecasting.” Felix muttered. 

“Like the formari?!” Paloma’s back straightened and eyes widened.

“Not quite. The sort I took up is a Rivaini art.” Felix explained. 

“What is it?” Paloma leaned forward.

“It’s casting magic without relying on your own magic.” Felix stated. 

“Come again?” 

Felix chuckled. “It relies on observing the natural order of things. The ebb and flow of air, of water, of action and reaction.” 

“How does it work?” Paloma asked, setting her utensils down. 

“Most spell casting is immediate.” Felix explained. “But what do mages do in order to cast?”

“They force their will onto reality?” 

“Precisely. They disturb the natural order of the world. Agitating not just the fade but the flow of ambient magic, many times leaving behind a dam to such channels of magic and thus a pool of ambient magic.” Felix took a bite while Paloma nodded. 

“I remember that from magic casting basics. But they teach us to clear ambient magic after spell casting to prevent tears in the fade.” Paloma squinted. 

“And parents also tell their children to wipe their feet before entering their homes.” Felix shot back. 

“Not everyone follows the rules…” Paloma groaned. “...which is why sometimes Fadelings are able to cross the veil without anyone even summoning them.”

“Because there is an overabundance of ambient magic.” Felix explained. 

“So what does glyph and runecasting have to do with this?” 

“It makes use of such spellcasting from sloppy mages who don’t clear the ambient magic. It is not an immediate way to use magic as most spells are not quite powerful but overtime with repeated spellcasting...I can achieve the result I want.” 

“You’re recycling wasted magic!” Paloma gasped. 

“Recycling?” Felix frowned. The word was unfamiliar but he could understand the meaning behind it based on word etymology. 

“Taking magical waste and repurposing it so it doesn’t affect the environment!” Paloma’s smile grew wider. 

“I wouldn’t say that is my goal, but that is an after effect, yes.” Felix agreed, though Paloma’s smile was infectious. “This...pleases you?”

“It does. I greatly approve of any action that helps clean the environment. Even if it’s the magical one.” She stuck a spoonful of food into her mouth, her gaze beamed bright and warm at him. A warmth Felix hadn’t felt since Tevinter, since last he saw Dorian and Olivia. 

They finished their meal in companionable conversation about runecasting and its uses for those with little to no magical talent, such as Felix. When they put their utensils down and were simply drinking tea, Felix eyed her. There was a question that had been burning the back of his mind for some time now. 

“What did you use to do before the Circle?” He posed softly. 

Paloma was mid sip when she paused. She took instead a gulp and set the cup down. “Before?” She’d never had to answer this. Most circle mages rarely asked. Either because they assumed she was an apostate before and thus it was forbidden to discuss such life. Or mages rarely remember life before the circle so it wasn’t talked about. Though Clemence knew what her life had been like, and by extension Knight Vigilant Trentwatch as he spied through Clemence. Still, she wasn’t ready to share the truth again so easily — at least not the outright truth. 

“You said you worked in a tavern? Did you have any time when you weren’t?” Felix asked. 

Right! She had said that. “Not much. When I wasn’t serving in the tavern, I was caring for children for parents who worked frequently.” She explained. Surely that was vague enough to cover it. “Not much time between those two to really take up a hobby, and what little I had I spent reading...” Paloma didn’t add the next part. 

“Suppose that settles the earlier matter then.” Felix smiled. 

“What matter?” 

“I’ll petition Fiona to grant you an occasional reprieve from your daily duties. If not daily, then weekly. With permission to enter the library to explore at your leisure.” Felix leaned back, smug. 

“Oh!” Paloma scowled mockingly but couldn’t help the brief feeling of glee that she might be able to read for leisure again. “That would be nice. Weekly seems very reasonable.” She looked out the window down to the garden. “With the weather warming it would even be wonderful to read under the sun…” 

“Ah…” Felix frowned. He’d likely be unable to join her for that, but he saw the far off wistful look in her eyes. While he’d been hoping to share more time with her in the library, he’d put it on hold if she wanted to go outside to enjoy such an activity — even if he could not follow due to his illness. 

“I’ve never seen so many shooting stars before.” Paloma’s sigh was wistful, her gaze turned toward the sky through the window. 

“Really? They’re quite frequent.” Felix reached over to open the windows, revealing the night sky’s beauty in full despite the distant green light on the mountain range horizon. “You’d be able to see more of them if not for the Breach.” 

“Too much light pollution.” Paloma frowned. “Just like home…”

Felix frowned. Where in Thedas besides Orlais and Tevinter was there such a large amount of light pollution that she would be unable to see the nightly shooting stars? 

“Is Orlais your home?” He questioned as a breeze came through the window. He eyed Paloma, wondering if she was chilled yet she seemed unperturbed by Ferelden breeze. 

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m...from somewhere else. It doesn’t matter where anymore.” 

“Surely it does to remember your heritage? Were you raised in an alienage?” Felix asked, his voice undulated as he suppressed a chattering of his teeth. 

Paloma scowled. An alienage? She was not an elf! She turned to snap at Felix and caught his shoulders tensing as a slight shiver ran through him. “You’re cold! Let’s close the window.” 

“Please, no. You were enjoying the stars — I can handle a bit of a chill.” Felix held his hand up. 

“Felix...you’re Tevinter born, you’re used to a much warmer climate. You’re also sick. And…” Paloma reached across his lap. “...you brought a blanket, remember?” 

Felix stiffened at how close she was, leaning to reach for the blanket he’d brought not for himself but for her. He caught a whiff of her calming scent and a rush of warmth seemed to pulse off her. 

That’s right! Her attunement! Of course she wouldn’t get cold so easily. How could he forget? 

She opened the blanket and wrapped half of it around her shoulders and slid closer to him to wrap the rest around him. Just off her proximity and her look of genuine care, warmed him inside. Though it certainly helped to warm him outside as well, especially when her hand brushed against his hand. 

“Maker, you’re freezing!" She yelped and pulled his hands up between them, wrapping both of hers around his. 

Felix was powerless to really stop her, his ears flushing to pink tips as she brashly threw social etiquette out the window again in his presence. Only this time instead of for her own comfort and health, it was for his. 

Her eyes closed as she held his hands and the air around her —  _ them  _ shimmered with heat. The windows fogged up as puffs of white air escaped with the breeze. His muscles loosened and his back relaxed from no longer having to suppress shivering. He felt like he had to even loosen his shirt at the neck from the heat. 

“Temperature magic…” He muttered. “Yet the precision in which you wield it…”

“It’s about the only thing I’m genuinely good at in terms of magic.” Paloma sighed, her eyes opened to a half lidded state.

If it were possible, her golden gaze seemed brighter, hair more silver and white than it was a moment ago, and skin darker. 

“That’s...impressive,” he whispered as he stared down at her in awe. She dropped their hands, but didn’t let go of him. Instead, almost instinctively, she entwined their fingers together. 

Felix’s pulse quickened as he grasped tighter.

“You’re not cold anymore right?” She asked, as softly as he had spoken. She bit her bottom lip, worrying it.

“No…” He swallowed, watching as her lip darkened with blood and plumped from the mistreatment. It beckoned him. 

He could no longer recall the briefest of touch from their almost kiss the other night. He wanted more…he wanted her, if she’d let him. 

“Paloma…” His voice strained, husky and parched. 

“Yes?” 

“May I kis-”

“Your tea!” Paloma jolted backwards enough to turn from him. “We can’t wait any longer, Fiona left me in charge to ensure you took it after eating something.” 

“Of course…” Felix sighed and leaned back as Paloma prepared it. “Thank you.” He grabbed the cup, fully intending on drinking it quickly to ask again when he caught sight of Paloma’s blushing cheeks and the tremor in her hands as she began cleaning up the table. Again she bit her bottom lip, clearly a nervous habit. 

He felt another breeze through the window. It cooled his senses and woke him up.

He was being untoward. Clearly he was moving much too quickly. Where was his sense of propriety, his decency? Maker, Olivia would be furious with him if she saw his behaviour. But Dorian would have applauded it. 

He took a steadying breath, drank his entire cup of tea and then closed the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix is a disaster bisexual and also very touch starved.
> 
> Please point out any grammar/spelling problems as I am posting this as midnight without re-reading. Enjoy everyone!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix negotiates for Paloma's access to the library and faces a familiar, but not exactly friendly, face.  
Paloma and Clemence deal with the aftermath of Banon's surprise use of magic in cooking against their warnings.

Felix strode through the castle corridors, toward where he knew his father would be bent over his research in the private study. Not the one in the library, but the one connected to his quarters. 

He didn’t knock as he stepped inside. He scanned the papers strewn across his father’s many tables, taking in all the new intel regarding the time magic issues.

Areas around Redcliffe were being affected by anomalic time dilation. Only a few instances were spotted and experienced. They were largely brief instances of experiencing time slowed down or stepping through an unusually colored patch of grass only to lose an hour. 

Felix had researched time dilations with the artifact. But the sort being observed near Redcliffe were not affected by gravity, but something else. If Felix had to guess, it was the Breach. Add the fact Redcliffe sat on a proverbial lake of dammed up ambient magic that was exacerbating the problem.

“Felix!” Gereon looked up from his desk. “My boy, you look quite well today.” Gereon walked round to meet him, clasping hands with him. His gaze was tentatively hopeful as he looked Felix over. “Doesn’t he, Crassius?”

Felix stiffened as the white robed man stood and faced him. Crassius Servis was a Venatori and not that much older than Felix. In fact they had gone to the same finishing school in Minrathous. Though Crassius was certainly more accomplished than Felix now.

Felix greeted him with a stiff head bow. 

“You certainly don’t look blighted.” Crassius smirked. “I had hardly believed it when I heard of the accident. But then again, you were always getting into all sorts of nastiness as a child and yet always surviving unscathed. Lucky.”

Felix rolled his eyes. He so loved proving the accuracy of his childhood nickname. “Don’t be so crass.”

Crassius snorted. 

“Have you seen Enchanter Fiona this morning yet?” Gereon drew the conversation back. 

“Not yet. I will check in with her after but I was hoping to speak with you...privately.” Felix gave a pointed look at Crassius who purposefully did not take the hint from him.

“Servis, if you would excuse us.” Gereon gestured toward the door. 

“Certainly.” Servis bowed at the hip and walked out, pulling the door behind him. 

Felix squinted and made a few foot movements, allowing a gust of wind to push the door all the way closed. He heard Crassius make an annoyed sound beyond the door, and smirked. He was wise to his tricks. 

“Now then what can I help you with, Felix?“ Gereon gestured to the chair Crassius had vacated. 

“My bedmage has sustained injury recently.” Felix sat down.

“Has she?” Gereon blinked. 

His countenance was calm, entirely too calm. In Tevinter, his father would have been worried if he’d said the same thing about any of their slaves. Their family took very good care of their slaves. Then again, his father has been behaving most unlike himself lately. 

“Yes. I was hoping to ensure the other Venatori know not to trespass on any who serve me?” 

“None are allowed to touch the rebel mages. Fiona has made that explicitly clear as part of her negotiations.” Gereon answered simply. “Perhaps she sustained the injury in the kitchens. How was she injured? ” 

“Her hands were lashed.” 

“Ah,” Gereon knowingly smiled. “That was no injury, but rather a consequence of her actions.” 

“What do you mean?” Felix frowned. 

“I ordered she be punished with lashes.” Gereon stated, completely unperturbed. 

Felix bit his tongue to prevent himself from speaking his mind, instead he breathed out, “Why?” 

“She upset you.” 

“Exactly how did she upset me? I have not been upset with her once.” 

“Well, I heard raised voices and when I came to investigate, you were shouting. I could hear it from the hall. And she left your quarters. Clearly, she upset you and I cannot have her disturbing your emotional state. Such extreme emotions can interfere with Enchanter Fiona’s treatment.” 

“I was **not** upset.” Felix bit out. “We were simply having an argument.” 

“About what?” Gereon’s brows furrowed. 

“The topic does not matter.” Felix waved off. 

“Clearly it does, if it roused you to shouting.” Gereon placed a hand on Felix’s shoulders. 

“It was about Orlesian appropriation of Tevinter lore.” Felix sighed.

“And she dared disagree with you?” Gereon’s brows furrowed further. 

“It was nothing so serious, father.” Felix rushed out, so as not to rehash the contents of that discussion — else his father would find further reason to punish Paloma. “The point stands, she should not have been physically punished just because I raised my voice.” 

“Hm.” Gereon leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. “You are quite fond of her.” 

“I-...yes.” Felix admitted, watching as his father smiled. “Please...do not punish her for anything any further.” 

“Well...I suppose I can make the exception while here. But once our business in Ferelden is complete and we return to Tevinter, she will be indentured to a household. She will have to learn her place eventually, be it by my hand...or someone else’s who will not be so lenient.” 

Felix frowned. He didn’t wish to see Paloma made a servant, especially not for anyone else. 

“Can she not...join our household?” Felix queried. If she did end up indentured, at least let it be his household. It would be the only way to ensure she came to no further harm. And if it meant he could continue seeing her, then all the better. 

“I suppose I can arrange that.” 

“Good.” 

“Was there anything else?” 

Felix breathed in. “Is there anyway she could be granted access to the library?” 

“Who? Your bedmage?” Gereon squinted when Felix nodded. “Whatever for?” 

“So she may have access to the texts there. I understand she’s still an apprentice. Would it not behoove us to ensure she is educated before joining our household as a servant?” Felix leveraged. “Especially if she may aid me in my research.”

“Hmm.” Gereon eyed his son with a knowing look. “She may. As for her education, I leave that to Fiona’s responsibility. You might discuss that with her.”

“I shall.” Felix stood up with a pep, he made to leave but his father halted him. 

“Given your good mood and health, shall you join us in the hall for breakfast then?” Gereon gave him a pointed look that said he shouldn’t decline. 

“Of course.” Felix smiled with a strain. 

“Good.” 

* * *

Clemence and Paloma eyed the kitchen, both standing at the door first thing in the morning. There was dough batter splattered to the ceiling, walls, and rafters. Flour dusted the floor, tables, and countertops. Egg shells embedded in the wall. And to make matters worse, the jars of strawberry jam Paloma had been intending on using for the morning meal, were shattered. Their contents oozing over a counter top and dripping onto the floor. 

Clemence took in the entirety of the mess, and calculated how long it would take to clean everything. 

While Paloma stood still. Her eyelid twitched as she rubbed the space between her brows. “What...what happened?” She bit out between her clenched teeth.

Banon stood beside them, with his head angled down, hair coated in flour, and apron and robes splashed with various liquids neither wished to ask what it was. 

“Banon used magic.” Helisma stated the obvious where she was sweeping the rye flour away from the stoves so as not to catch fire.

“I thought it would be faster.” Banon mumbled. 

“Despite my previous warning?” Clemence queried. 

Banon scoffed and offered nothing else. 

“This will take much time to clean up.”

Paloma shut her eyes and breathed in deep. She released it slowly and the air around her shimmered with heat. Banon withdrew from her side with a whimper. Clemence reached a hand to touch her shoulder but she was moving before he could. She slammed open her planner and recipe books. “Clean the counters. We’ll get the ceiling and crevices later.”

“And what shall we serve for the morning meal?” Helisma asked.

Clemence looked to Paloma, her hair a shade lighter than a moment before. Paloma turned to face them with the book in her palm and a charcoal pen in the other.

“We have smoked ham in the larder. I was saving it for the weekend so we could have a break.” She glared at Banon over the pages of her book. 

“A cold meal then?” Clemence asked. 

“Yeah. Ham, fruits… maybe some rice porridge. Helisma?” Paloma headed for the larder, Clemence following her. 

“I’ll get started on the porridge.” Helisma stated and quickly put the cauldron on the hearth. With Keili’s help they would get the milk boiling for the rice.

Banon hurriedly wiped clean the counters and tables of the splattering of dough mixture. He intended to add it to the refuse. 

“Ah, if you would leave it in this bowl. I’ll bake it later for the mabari.” Helisma informed, pointing to a bowl. 

“Nothing goes to waste in this kitchen, does it?” Banon asked. 

“Excepting of course when you decide to use magic.” Helisma stated. 

“No need to be so harsh.” Banon snapped. 

“I was not harsh. Merely stating a fact.” Helisma’s tone was even. 

“Ugh...tranquil.” Banon threw his hands up and went to clean the jam off the counters. 

Paloma and Clemence came up with the pork leg that had been cured in salt, smoked, and then stored in the freezing larder — or as Paloma called it, the freezer. 

“The ham will need to be warmed before we can slice it.” Clemence tapped the near frozen solid meat. 

“Yeah, I got that.” Paloma rolled up her sleeves and tied her hair back tighter. She held her hand out on either side of the ham, eyes glinting gold in the morning light streaming through the window. The air shimmered around the ham as the water rose off in wisps of steam.

“Careful, you may burn it.” Helisma blinked.

“Paloma is aware of the limit and temperature.” Clemence stated as he quickly prepared fruits. 

“So **she **can use magic for cooking, but I can’t?” Banon asked, exasperated. 

“Yes.” Clemence, Helisma, and Keili chorused mutely. Banon huffed. 

“Unlike you, **I** know the limitations of my magic.” Paloma muttered as she pressed a finger on the ham to test whether it was defrosted. 

“I know my limits.” 

Paloma quirked a brow up. “And I don’t use my magic as a shortcut forwhat can be done by hand.” 

“I wasn’t using it as a shortcut.” Banon huffed. 

“Is that why there’s crepe batter splattered all over the ceiling, flour coating the entire stone table, and who knows how many egg shells were thrown into the compost box.” Paloma shook her head. “Not to mention my jam?” 

“Perhaps, Banon wasn’t harrowed?” Helisma asked. 

Paloma looked up from the ham and eyed Banon. “Were you?” 

“I-....” Banon fumbled before he answered. “_ Yes._ I was.” 

“He wasn’t.” Clemence countered. 

“You get entirely too flustered.” Paloma sighed. 

“I do _ not_.” Banon rushed out in one breath. 

“Uh-huh.” Paloma grabbed a large knife and slid it through the ham, slowing only a little near the middle but still cleanly. “Perfect.” She continued carving the ham into quarter inch slices. 

Once the ham was sliced and prepped on a serving tray, she joined Clemence in cutting up the various fruits and vegetable spread they would put out. Banon relegated himself to using the mortar and pestle to grind up a few cinnamon sticks for garnish. 

The slaves arrived to carry out the food much quicker than Paloma wanted. She barely managed to grab a bowl of the rice porridge to take up to Felix with his tea, when they were wheeling it all out. She rushed to prepare the tea, covering the teapot as the splattered dough on the rafters dripped from the heat filling the kitchens. 

“Shoot.” Paloma grumbled. “Clemence, watch the teapot.” Clemence did as asked, grabbing the lyrium dust and trickling it in as instructed as Paloma grabbed the wooden step-ladder under the counter. She climbed up with a wet rag, reaching for the rafters, but she was still a little short to reach the corners. “Banon, if you weren’t so much shorter than me, it’d be you up here.” She huffed as she had to stand on tip toes to reach. 

“Sorry.” Banon's voice was quieter

Paloma wiped the rafters, reaching with her left arm to get the corners and she used her right to steady herself. “Ugh...it’s gotten slimy too.” 

Banon shuffled toward the water pump with a bucket to prepare mopping water. Keili stepped out to rush off to the farms for the rest of the milk. Helisma was picking up stray jam covered pieces of glass.

A knock sounded at the door, drawing Paloma’s attention. A visitor she hadn’t expected but one which soothed the anger that settled in the back of her neck and elicited a nervous excitement. She dropped her right hand to wave. “Felix!” 

Unfortunately it meant she was no longer steady on the step-ladder. And with her displaced weight, no anchor, and no one holding the ladder steady — it wobbled and Paloma went toppling off. 

Felix’s bright greeting smile dropped before he darted into the kitchen and caught Paloma. 

She landed in his arms, face pressed to his neck as one arm wrapped around her waist steady and strong, and the other had pulled her close with his palm splayed on her upper back. 

Her cheek pressed to his neck, where she could feel the increase in his pulse. 

Felix breathed in hard and loosened his hold as he set her down. His gaze raked over her. “Are you alright?” 

Paloma didn’t answer as she stared into Felix’s eyes, heavily aware of how close they were; of how Felix’s hands slid up from her waist to her shoulders; of the minty scent of his freshly brushed teeth and the smell of his aftershave. 

“Paloma?” Felix’s voice dropped and grasped her hands. She was reminded of last night, of how he’d stared at her, gaze flicking to her lips. How he’d begun closing the distance between them. 

“Paloma,” Clemence chimed. His monotone voice was a splash of water that reminded her of where she was. She pulled away from Felix, or tried to. She stepped back into the step-ladder behind her, legs still entangled and nearly fell backwards this time. 

Clemence caught her by her waist. The thickness of his arm was not evident from underneath his robes, but he flexed his forearm and upperarm. His fingers dug into her waist to keep her steady one handed, while his other hand kept stirring the tea. 

“Careful.” Felix’s grip on her hands tightened to keep her upright. 

“I’m okay!” Paloma rushed out, cheeks darkening as more eyes joined to stare at them. 

Felix laughed. “Are you certain?” 

“Yes.” She clenched her eyes tight and nodded. 

Felix pulled Paloma to stand up straight, Clemence behind her offering her support. 

“Banon.” Clemence called the mage over. 

“But, you three looked very comfy.” Banon snorted as he came around to grab the step-ladder and put it away. 

“Banon!” Paloma hissed with more malice than she intended. “Go tend to the fires for the roast.” 

“But I-” 

“Now!” She barked.

Felix raised a brow at her the anger. He'd never seen that side of her.

“What are you doing here, Felix?” Paloma, now righted and on her own two feet, moved around the kitchen to drop the used rag. “I was just preparing your tray-” 

“Ah yes. I was coming here to tell you I would be dining in the hall. But I see I came a little too late to halt your efforts.” Felix sheepishly smiled. 

“It. Would. Seem. So.” Clemence enunciated each word so as not to be misunderstood.

Paloma eyed Clemence at his clipped tone, as though he were displeased. She frowned and covered the bowl of rice porridge she had left aside. “It’s quite alright.” Paloma stated. “We’ve a bit of mess here in the kitchen this morning, so it’s a little…”

“Hectic?” Felix stepped out of Clemence’s way as he poured the tea he was preparing in a familiar pot. 

“Yes.” Paloma sighed as she picked up the bucket of water Banon had drawn to drop a bit of soap in it. 

“Then I shan’t stay much longer.” Felix shuffled back to the door, intending on leaving but turned back. “One more thing, you have full permission to access the library.” 

“I do?” Paloma halted, in shock. 

“Yes."

Paloma wanted to hug Felix. After the rushed morning, this was good news. She took a step toward him, arms halfway lifted before she drew back upon catching Helisma observing. She pulled back to straighten her apron and smiled at Felix - who had clearly seen the moment and was giving her a self-satisfied smirk.

"I must thank you, for arranging that for me."

"You are most welcome." Felix grinned. "I do hope to see you there sometime this week.” Felix added and bowed a farewell before leaving. 

After Felix had left, Paloma’s mood lifted. Even Banon’s reappearance in the kitchen didn’t make her snap. She’d have to change a few things for the week, but she was sure she could have a free hour sometime on the weekend. If only to take a quick peek and grab a few books. Niris came to the kitchen shortly after to retrieve Felix’s tea. 

Midday meal came and went, leaving Paloma looking over their evening meal preparations. The stew was in the slow cooker cauldron and a fresh batch of bread was baking. Clemence prepared a cure for the fish caught today, to make fish jerky. Banon was getting the last of that morning’s mess cleaned on his knees and Helisma was off tending to the mabari. Keili had delivered all the used cloths, rags, and dirty aprons to the laundry. 

And then they got another visitor to the kitchen. 

“Lysas!” Paloma greeted, this time much more calmed and with her two feet on the ground. “How can I help you?” 

“I came to deliver news. I understand you wish to have a reprieve from the kitchens once or twice a week?” Lysas asked. 

“Ah...yes. I’ve been granted permission to access Redcliffe Castle’s libraries...and well I can’t if I’m...well here.” Paloma gestured around her. “Everyday.” 

Lysas nodded in understanding. “Grand Enchanter Fiona has allowed it. She has granted you a reprieve Sundays and Wednesdays. On those days, Enchanter Talwyn and Hanley will take over here. Is that adequate?” 

Adequate? It was marvelous! She didn't have to worry about arranging anything in the kitchen now. Paloma’s lips widened. “Yes! Thank you!” She couldn’t wait to get her hands on any book not related to the blight or her studies. Something leisurely. Maybe historical? Or perhaps poetry? She briefly wondered if the castle library had a copy of Hard in Hightown.

“Paloma.” Lysas interrupted her inner thoughts. “There was one condition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love me a cup of romantic foreshadowing shenanigans. 
> 
> Safety tip: always have someone holding the step ladder still, no matter how small the height.
> 
> I've been dying to introduce Crassius. He's going to show up a few more times in future chapters. 
> 
> Shoutout to Min from the Portal Funtasy/Modern Character in Thedas Discord server for helping with some of this chapter and for the lovely feedback from Tagedieb. 
> 
> Next chapter is going to do a bit of a time skip.
> 
> That aside, how is the pacing so far guys? Does this fic warrant the Slow Burn tag? How relatable is Paloma?


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days has passed since being granted access and a reprieve. Paloma is enjoying her first library visit, after of course attending to the condition Fiona set.

Paloma sucked on her teeth as she dangled the charcoal pen in her hand. Across from her sat a young girl looking over parchment with a runic drawing on it. The girl was examining each sigil. 

The young girl was exceptionally bright, horribly advanced, and entirely an insufferable know-it-all for a ten year old mage. Paloma would have never guessed that this little girl was Eamon’s daughter, Rowan. And her presence meant Isolde and Connor were dead. 

“That is the rune for a wall of fire.” Rowan shoved the parchment across the desk. “Any five year old can tell you that.” 

Paloma sighed with a roll of her eyes. “Right, my mistake. Miss Rowan.” 

“I asked for a healing fire rune.” Rowan tutted and pushed another parchment at Paloma. “Seeing as your attunement is heat, I thought you would have at least known that.” 

Paloma gritted her teeth and ignored the comment. She quickly drew another rune and pushed the page back at Rowan who looked it over. Most of the runes looked alike, but it was the specific sigils, their placements, and positions that changed the effect. 

Paloma was being forced to learn the various healing runes, starting with her own attunement. All thanks to Fiona’s condition for a reprieve from kitchen duties. 

She had to dedicate two of the six hours every week to study. And not just self-study. Oh no, Fiona decided Paloma needed a **tutor.**

A tutor would have been fine. She’d always had trouble learning any kind of magic in the circle. Healing especially. Which she’d neglected in favour of alchemy and botany with Clemence. 

But to have a tutor that was twenty years her junior? And one that was harrowed at nine years old? Well, it made Paloma feel some kind of embarrassment, until she reminded herself she’d only had magic for four years, about the same time it took for Rowan to master several spell trees and pass her harrowing. 

Rowan was a mage prodigy. She already had her own published thesis on the ramifications of lyrium infused elfroot ashes in healing draughts and poultices.

Paloma groaned when Rowan set the parchment back in front of her. 

“You need to work on your penmanship. I can barely tell if that is the symbol for Copper or Antimony. Proper sigils and their positioning is key to rune work.” Rowan admonished her. 

Paloma rolled her eyes but yanked the parchment back to fix it. 

“No no. Start over again. You need to be able to draw it correctly from start to finish. You cannot simply rub away a sigil when casting a rune.” Rowan yanked the parchment back and gave Paloma a new one. 

“For fuck’s sake.” Paloma muttered under her breath but did as instructed. She did it again and again for all two hours, the only difference being changing from a healing fire rune to a healing frost rune, one of earth, and ice, storm, nature and finally spirit. Her fingers were covered in black smudge by the time the 11th bell rang, signaling there was one hour until midday meal time. 

Yet instead of returning to the kitchen, Paloma darted into the bookshelves to flee from her child instructor as she stated “Work on your penmanship!” 

Finally she could find some kind of book to read for **fun.**

She wiped her hands clean on her apron and inspected the titles down one whole length of wall. 

A chuckle followed her hurried steps. She spun in place and found no one behind her.

“Hello?” 

There were no footsteps, but that deep in their throat chuckle came out again. It sounded like it was on the other side of the bookshelf in front of her. She walked toward the end, watching the shadow of a person mirror her movements until...

“That looked obscenely painful to sit through.” Felix met her at the end with a smirk.

“Felix!” She hissed and then smacked his arm lightly. “Did you watch my entire lesson?” 

“I only caught the tail end of it.” Felix tutted. “What an impertinent child.”

“Yes well, it was the condition Grand Enchanter Fiona set.” 

“That you tutor a child?” 

“Oh I wish that it were I tutoring her.” Paloma sighed. 

“No!” Felix gasped and covered his mouth to hide his laughter. “You mean-you?” 

“Yes. Go ahead, laugh. I’m being tutored on healing...by a ten year old.” Paloma grumbled. 

Felix kept his mouth covered and braced himself against a bookshelf. “How can you stand it?” He asked once he calmed his mirth. 

“Because it means I can be here-” Paloma gestured to the bookshelves around them. “Without worry that the kitchen will fall to chaos. So I’ll swallow my pride and deal with it.” 

“How humble of you.” Felix snickered, Paloma rolled her eyes and made for the bookshelves again. Her gaze tracked over the titles. She felt rather than heard Felix step after her. He lingered just out of her peripheral vision. The back of her neck prickled under his gaze.

With pursed lips, she moved down the stack, reading book title after book title. Felix followed after her, silent as ever but somehow making his presence known. If she had to guess, it was those darn enchanted shoes again. 

“Is there a reason you’re following me, Magister?” Paloma resorted to his not-title. 

“Just enjoying watching your neck turn red.” Felix purred, his voice much closer than Paloma thought he was. 

She slapped a hand to the back of her neck to cover it, but even she knew the heat flooded to her cheeks. She spun to find him invading her personal space. Not that she minded. Even if it was overwhelming. She was reminded of how close they had almost gotten in the alcove a few days ago.

And...how close they continued to be since then. Ever since he got her permission to visit the library, she spent a little bit more extra time in his quarters discussing history books he’d already read. Books she’d not had access to in the Spire because they were about Ferelden. 

Sometimes they’d argue. Though, Paloma made sure Felix never raised his voice again. But a few times in the midst of arguing whether the Orlesian retreat was a tactical maneuver or that Ferelden’s old religion was still alive and well, Felix would pause and stare at her. He wouldn’t respond to her, merely drank her in. His gaze flicked to her lips, then he’d close the distance between them and when he was almost there and Paloma hadn’t pulled back — he’d hover. As though he was grappling with himself and then he’d pull back.

During their dinner in the alcove, Paloma had been the one to pull back. And she’d regretted it almost instantly, even if she played it off as it being about his tea. 

She’d told herself, it was to save them both heartache. But really...she knew it was entirely selfish reasons. She didn’t want to get hurt. Felix wouldn’t survive more than a year, no matter her contributions to Fiona’s research. He was destined to die in Tevinter. 

And yet despite that, why couldn’t she keep her distance? Why did she look forward to delivering his morning meals? His teas? From the playful way he bickered with her and to his equally smug and nervous flirtatious smiles, to those quiet moments where he enjoyed just her presence. 

Why? 

It was not a question Paloma could answer, not then and certainly not now. 

Between her unrequited affections for Clemence that could never be reciprocated, to her doomed developing feelings for Felix, she was torn. It had to stay friendly. Even if the way Felix looked at her made her stomach flutter and the way Clemence held her every morning made her cheeks flush and heart ache.

She needed an outlet. Some way to experience the closeness she wanted without encouraging Felix and not imposing on Clemence. 

“I thought I might help you find a book.” Felix pulled her from her thoughts. He’d been talking and she’d been lost in thought, and now he was offering to help her find a book. 

A book. That was it!

* * *

Felix cleared his throat as he watched Paloma page through _ Dreams of Desire. _He’d recommended it purely because it was the sole romance book he could recall Dorian and Olivia had gushed about in his presence. 

The book’s narrative is a series of novellas, all taking place in a post Nomaranthian Era. It details the stifling and suffocating problem of social etiquette from circle towers to Tesserae Parties. Highlighting that the only place a mage could be truly free to be themselves...was in the fade.

He’d never partook of much fiction beyond scientific romances. But novels of sensibility and manners such as this? It was barely a step above bodice rippers and indecent Penny Lustfuls like Swords and Shields. He would never read such drivel. 

At least, that’s what he told himself before. Now...

He watched Paloma’s gaze fly over the words, consuming the text so quickly he barely managed to catch the shift in her expressions. The tips of her cheekbones deepened in color and her poor bottom lip was imprisoned underneath her teeth as she bit them. Her legs shifted, feet pointed as she fidgeted in the chair she occupied opposite him. He even caught a flash of her ankles when she gripped her robes in whatever fit of enthusiasm or anticipation she was suffering. 

Maker, **what **was in that text? 

He set the book, a Treatise Concerning Dwarves and the Non-Heritability of Magic, he’d been reading aside and rose. He appeared as though to return the book and grab another. Paloma’s gaze flicked toward him briefly before returning to the book. He lingered, moving around the sitting area until he was behind her.

She read speedily, slowing only when there was an illustration every chapter. Illustrations that had Felix’s brows rising high at the actions they depicted. Women and men in equal states of undress, horned desire demons at the head of massive Dreamer parties, and…

Felix’s neck flushed at the next chapter’s illustration. 

Orgies held at the gates of the Black City, turning Golden at the lover’s peak. 

The book closed, taking the images away from Felix’s sight and he met Paloma’s amused smirk. 

“If you wanted to read with me, you could have asked.” Paloma teased.

“That...will not be necessary.” He coughed and pulled at his neckline, feeling as though he owed an explanation. “I was merely curious. You were - ahem. You were making a number of motions indicating your enjoyment of that particular text.” 

“Was I?” Paloma frowned, thinking back. “I didn’t distract you, did I?” 

“No. It’s quite alright.” Felix waved away her concern. “Far be it from me to dictate what is an acceptable expression of enjoyment.”

Paloma turned in her seat and leaned over the back of it. “So, what was I doing?” 

Felix’s throat dried, the tips of his ears pinkened. He cleared his throat. “Ah well…” He didn’t answer, and instead stepped away to another bookshelf. He couldn’t quite put into words what she did, not without being improper.

“Felix?” She called. “Felix??” Paloma’s voice sounded amused and then worried. 

He tried to increase the distance between them. _ Six feet, Felix. __Six feet! _ He could hear Olivia admonishing him on his decorum as of late. Still, his and Paloma’s closeness only occured in the privacy of his room. But the library? The kitchen? Those were public places. People could see them. He had to maintain proper etiquette, proper manners. 

He glowered at the bookshelves. He had to admit, now that he was giving it some thought, he did see the allure of novels of sensibility and manners. Grand expressions of affection, passion, and love at the expense of all social etiquette was tempting. But he did not think of himself as needing to resort to such public gesticulations. 

Besides, that was fiction. He wouldn’t want to embarrass Paloma.

No. He would court her, make his intentions known properly. Politely worded correspondence, gifts, and outings with chaperones... 

He groaned. By Dumat’s tit. He couldn’t even do that correctly. He’d already gone about this all wrong! Specifically in the wrong order. 

“Felix?” Paloma was beside him now, her hand touched his forehead. “You’re flushed. Do I need to get Fiona?” She stepped away from him. 

“No.” He rumbled, his fingers grazed her fingertips before he grasped her hand — halting her in place. 

The library was quiet around them. Felix and Paloma looked down at their hands. Felix’s already flushed face met Paloma’s softening look. 

“My apologies.” Felix bumbled out and let go. 

“Sorry.” Paloma mirrored. 

The two coughed and looked away from each other. 

“I was merely stepping away to give you a moment to enjoy the book privately. Had I known the contents of it...I would have done so sooner.” Felix muttered low enough so only she heard.

“Were my reactions that embarrassing?” Paloma whispered.

“They were a touch...indecent.” 

“Oh...I’m sor-”

“I do not fault you.” Felix interrupted her. “Twas my error. I should not have recommended a book I myself have yet to read.” Felix rushed out, but still didn’t meet her gaze.

“Then why did you?” 

“A friend I trust spoke highly of it.” Felix sighed and rubbed his temples. “Though now I doubt their tastes in appropriate reading material for public enjoyment.” 

“I suppose I will have to finish reading it in private.” Paloma tapped the book she held. 

Felix frowned. No. He didn’t want her to finish it away from him. Even if it meant he’d spend the evening a bumbling blushing fool.

“Perhaps you can read it after joining me for the evening meal?” Felix added, finally looking at her. He quirked a half smile.

“Another evening meal?” Paloma’s brows rose. 

“Only if you...care to spend another evening with me.” Felix held back a wince. She had after all pulled away when he’d almost kissed her. Even if it was the proper thing to do. Perhaps she’d pulled back not because he was moving too quickly, but that she was not interested in him? 

“Well I do care to, that isn’t the question.” Paloma huffed as though it were obvious. 

Felix beamed at the affirmation that she did care, even if just a little. His lips spread wide into a grin.

“Don’t let that get to your head.” Paloma warned while pointing a finger at him, a twitch at the corner of her lips. 

“Never.” Felix placed a hand over his heart to promise it. He enjoyed the playful roll of her eyes. 

Paloma pursed her lips and then batted her lashes while looking up at him. Her body leaned ever so slightly toward him as she pressed the book to her chest. “I just worry.”

“Whatever for?”

“That it would be scandalous.” 

“What? You reading a book while having dinner with me?” 

“I mean, to do so again after you had **such **an adverse reaction.” She fluttered her lashes purposefully, a taunting glint in her gaze. “I hadn’t realized it would offend your sensibilities, my lord.”

“**My **sensibilities?” Felix guffawed. He chuckled and stepped close to her while pulling himself to his full height. He could play this game to his advantage. “My dear Paloma, when my sensibilities are offended, I shall inform you.” 

“How? By scuttling away with your cheeks and neck ablaze?” Paloma’s turn of phrase dripped with sarcasm. “I was **so** worried you had come down with a fever looking all flustered as you were.” 

Felix snorted at her smart mouth. “Oh worry not. Few things can send me into a fever so quickly.” He touched the side of her shoulder to pull her closer until he hovered by her ear. “Suggestive displays of your satisfaction over licentious texts could never be one of them.” His voice lowered into a whisper meant for her ears only. The deepness of it sent a visible shiver up Paloma’s back, her mouth parted yet she didn’t withdraw. 

Paloma gasped sharply. 

Perhaps that had been too forward? 

Felix was about to apologize when he caught her gaze lingering on his lips. Her tongue flicked out to moisten hers, as if in anticipation. It was a move that elicited a delectable rush of blood to his face and groin.

“Paloma…” He whispered softly. Her neck bobbed as she swallowed, a soft questioning whimper at the back of her throat drew him forward until he was a hair’s breadth away. Their eyes half lidded. He could smell the wafts of wine on her tongue with a hint of mint. 

He touched a hand gently to her jaw. He remembered the feel of it against his neck when she’d fallen right into his arms. Soft, jutting, and yet plump. Yet not as plump as her lips. He swiped his fingers to her chin, thumb brushing across her bottom lip — freeing it from her teeth. 

“Felix…” She sighed. This time she didn’t pull away. This time it seemed she was arching upward to meet him. 

He angled his head, eyes fluttering closed to kiss her. 

“I hadn’t realized fraternizing with elven servants in the library was your new pastime, Lucky.” Crassius Servis interrupted. 

Felix pulled away, quickly shoving Paloma behind him. She stumbled, but he had a firm grip on her upper forearm. 

“Crass.” Felix bit out in overly formal tones, all the while mentally admonishing himself. 

How could he be so shortsighted as to try and kiss her in the library. It was too public! Who else could have seen? His father? What other Venatori? Any number of those Tevinter supremacists could have seen. 

Crassius grinned in mock victory as panic flitted across Felix’s gaze before hardening to one of pale indifference. But Felix knew he saw right through him. 

“What ever can I be troubled to help you with?” Felix forced a grin.

“Tis not you who will be troubled, but I who is.” Crassius grinned as he leisurely walked into the aisle, cutting off one exit.

“What is it?” 

“Your father sent me to inform you, you will join him for today’s meeting. Those of us still in this Ferelden pigsty have deployments to discuss.” Crassius spoke in vague terms, but Felix knew what he meant. 

“Of course I will be in attendance.” 

“Good.” Crassius nodded, turning his back on Felix. Yet at the edge of the aisle he turned back around. “For old time’s sake, as a reminder, you should address me at my proper title.” Crassius smirked. “After all, I am a Magister now.”

Felix restrained himself from scowling. Instead he forced a polite smile. “I’ll do so at the meeting but outside...I’ll refer to your **purchased **title as soon as you do the same for me.” Felix growled back. 

“As you wish, **Master **Felix.” Crassius laughed. “Though your title is no better than mine. The University of Orlais is well known for granting Masters to any with enough coin. Even to elven whores.” Crassius laughed, cruelly. When Felix didn’t join him he leaned to one side, catching a glimpse of Paloma before Felix pushed her further out of his line of sight. Paloma, blessedly, had to sense to not fight him even as he manhandled her. 

“Was there anything else then?” Felix raised his voice. Crassius took several seconds to look up as though considering it. 

“No.”

“Then should you not be joining the others in the hall?” Felix nearly growled. 

“That I should. Until later, Feli-” Crassius paused and corrected himself. “**Master** Felix.”

Felix did not breathe easier until he heard the library door shut. And even then, he crossed to the end of the aisle to ensure Magister Crassius Servis was out. He sighed, and looked toward Paloma who exited the aisle after him, while rubbing her arm where he’d gripped tightly. 

“Oh Paloma.” He despaired. Had he injured her? “Did I hurt you?” He didn’t rush to her side, instead he kept his distance. 

“No. It’s just sore, nothing to worry about.” Paloma muttered. “What a **lovely** magister that was.” She let the sarcasm drip heavily on ‘lovely.’ “I gather you don’t like him very much?” 

“That I do not. We attended the same finishing school in our youth.” 

“Ah, explains the nickname he called you by.” Paloma smirked. “Lucky? Not very creative. Like calling a white mabari, Blanco.” 

Felix laughed. 

Their gazes were drawn toward one of the library windows as the sound of the distant bell drew their attention. 

“And that is the end of my allotted time in the library for today.” Paloma forced a smile. “Back to the kitchen for me.” 

“Yes, I suppose.” Felix muttered. 

“Until tonight.” Paloma stated, reminding Felix he had asked for another evening with her.

He grinned. “Until later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to SIT on this chapter for a few more days before posting, but what the heck. Have some fluff and some tensions.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors.  
I invite and appreciate feedback, including long comments, Questions, and _Constructive_ criticism.  
I see and appreciate all comments but may not reply until the next chapter is ready.  
If you don’t want a reply from me, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!.


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